Survival
by RandiGirl17
Summary: Shadowhunters are a dying breed. After his family was murdered when he was 12, Will Herondale is the final direct descendant of Jonathan Shadowhunter. The Clave has vowed to protect him at all costs, but protectors are dying one by one. Will doubts that Jem Carstairs can protect him from the demon Marbas, but a dangerous secret could be the key to keeping him alive. Or not.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello! :) Long time, no writing! Glad to be back with my first ever Infernal Devices story! I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. :) Cheers and happy reading!**_

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><p>My father's study was quiet when I slipped inside, closing the door behind me. Small flames crackled in the fireplace, the embers giving off a faint orange glow around the room. There was a desk in the far corner, and nearly every inch of wall space had been occupied by shelves and shelves of books. Here and there strange weapons had been mounted: crossed knives, swords, gleaming throwing stars, objects I could not name. I stared up at them curiously as I moseyed around, admiring the lethal edges of the weapons. On closer inspection, I noticed odd symbols engraved into the silver. I wondered where my father had obtained such a collection. I'd asked him before, but his answers were always vague. Clearly it was not a topic he liked to discuss. He'd voiced that he did not appreciate my snooping around in his study, which only made me more intrigued.<p>

The chair squeaked as I climbed onto it and investigated what lay on the desk. Neat stacks of paper were positioned near the left edge. Pencils and pens of different ink shades were lined up off to the right. I snorted to see they were arranged according to size, from largest to smallest. My father was weird sometimes.

Next I began rifling through his drawers. The longest one in the middle held nothing interesting: more writing utensils, an neon green adhesive notepad, a stapler and staples. The two on the left were stuffed full of file folders, all labelled with my father's neat handwriting. Nothing caught my attention. It was all work stuff and bills. . . junk parents dealt with. The top right-hand drawer contained a couple small books, some old family pictures, and a bag of caramels. I helped myself to one of the candies and reached for the final drawer. It did not open. I tried again but the drawer remained firmly locked.

I frowned. Why was only one drawer locked?

I opened the middle drawer again and dug through the contents. There! I'd nearly missed it. The small key was hidden under the extra lengths of staples. Silver under silver, the key had been disguised, but the opening and closing of the drawer had shifted the staples, revealing the teeth of the key.

My fingers were jumpy with excitement. I slid the key into the lock and turned. Something clicked and I was able to pull the drawer open. Inside was a golden box. I reached inside to lift it, but it's unexpected weight required two hands. I turned the item this way and that. More peculiar symbols had been carved into the gold. The box was otherwise quite plain. A latch and clasp sealed the container closed. Curious, I unhooked the clasp and detached the latch.

The box rumbled suddenly. I gasped, startled, and the box fell from my fingers. It landed right side up on the floor with a heavy thud, not even bouncing once. As I climbed out of the chair to retrieve it, the lid began to bob up and down. I watched, both fascinated and afraid. The lid lifted back to its hinges and a glow blazed from its belly. I shielded my eyes against the light.

A blue orb floated up out of the box and hovered near my face. I gaped at it, wide-eyed. My fingers itched to reach out and touch it, but I kept my arms firmly at my sides. For a long moment it floated in front of me, studying me. Then it drifted across the room toward the fireplace. It passed through the fire screen as easily as mist and disappeared into the flames.

I sat on the floor, dumbfounded. The box was now empty, and the ball of light had shown no signs of returning. Forcing myself not to panic, I closed the box and placed it back in the drawer. I put the key back in its hiding spot and made for the door. Before I left, I glanced over my shoulder at the fireplace. There was no blue light against the spectrum of orange, red, and yellow.

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><p>A piercing scream jolted me from my sleep. I sat upright in bed, straining my eyes to see through the darkness. A faint light glowed under my door. Loud crashes and bangs resonated down the hall. There was another scream and I recognized my mother's voice. Her shrieking was suddenly cut off, and my heart stopped beating.<p>

My father's shouts reached my ears, followed by more destructive noises. Something inhuman bellowed with what I identified as rage. A struggle was going on outside my door, but I was too terrified to move.

My sister's voice was abruptly added to the mix. She screamed. My father shouted, commanding her to call someone, but his voice was muffled and I couldn't distinguish was he was saying above the noise. Footsteps ran past my door.

My body finally snapped into action. Breathing hard, I slid from my bed and dropped to the floor. There wasn't much space under my bed, but I was small for my age. I wriggled underneath and made myself as tiny as possible.

There was suddenly a thunderous _boom_. My father let out a yell. A hollow bang reminded me of a body crashing against a wall, like I'd seen on TV. The following thud only solidified my guess. Someone stomped around. I heard a quiet creak, followed instantly by my sister's scream, and the slam of a door. Heavy feet pounded down the hallway in a run. Another bang, more screaming, and then deafening silence.

I held my breath. It was a miracle my heart had not ripped out of my chest. I listened hard for more noises, but there was nothing.

Until my door slowly opened.

I clapped my hand over my mouth to hold back my gasp. Light from the hallway flooded into the room. Two feet like I'd never seen before stood in the doorway. Long claws protruded from the ends of its toes, and its skin was blue and scaly. I watched, frozen, as the feet moved into the room. They walked from corner to corner, searching. I stiffened when the feet stopped by my bed. There was ruffling overhead and I could see the edges of my blankets shifting. When I risked glancing at the feet, I noticed splotches of dark red liquid against the scales.

The monster backed away from the bed and strode out of the bedroom. I waited until the intruder loudly descended the stairs before slipping from my hiding place. I crept to the door and peeked into the hallway. The shards of my mother's glass vases littered the floor. There were holes and dents in the walls, along with red smears. I padded across the hall to Ella's room, careful not to make a single noise. Her door was open. Nothing seemed out of place, except that her blankets had been thrown askew. Backing out, I tiptoed back past my room toward the bathroom.

The door had nearly been ripped free of its hinges. It hung open awkwardly. I gaped at the claw marks marring the wood. When I looked inside the bathroom, I had to choke back a sob. Ella was on her back, her eyes staring up at the ceiling. Her hair was fanned out across the floor. She wore a white tank top and pink pajama pants. The material of her shirt had been shredded across her stomach. Blood pooled beneath her from the wounds under her shirt. Her throat had also been ripped. Numerous holes punctured the skin of her neck. Her hand was outstretched beside her, and her cell phone lay out of reach, smashed into tiny bits.

I had the terrifying feeling that I was now alone. My parents would have come to get me if they were still alive, but I hadn't heard from them since their screams had been cut short.

Taking a deep breath, I began creeping down the hallway to the staircase, careful to avoid the glass fragments. As I inched forward, I saw something huddled on the floor near my parents' room. It was a body. Blood smeared the dented wall above it. I could not see his face, but I knew it was my father. Clutched in his limp hand was a blade similar to one of the ones in his study. I looked past him into the darkness of my parents' bedroom. The light was not on, and I was too frightened to go inside and look for my mother.

Sluggishly so as to not elicit a betraying sound from the stairs, I began to descend. When I reached the landing, I looked around nervously. There was nothing to be seen or heard. The kitchen lay through an archway to my left and the living room was on the right. The cordless phone was in my line of vision, sitting in its usual spot on the end table by the sofa. Without thinking, I rushed to make a grab for it.

Something caught around my ankle and sent me crashing to the floor. I flipped onto my backside and scrambled backward, eyes darting around wildly. The intruder stared down at me, his foot still stuck out from tripping me. My jaw fell open at the grotesque sight of him: his entire body was covered in blue scales. His features reminded me of a reptile, with eyes like rubies. He sniffed the air through his snakelike snout. A long yellow tail flicked behind him. I bit back a cry to see barbs and a stinger on the appendage. What that the weapon that had killed my sister?

"There you are," he said. His voice was a hiss. "I've been looking for you."

I scooted backward, desperate to put as much distance between me and him as possible.

"Come now." The monster moved forward with slow, deliberate steps. "I'm not going to hurt you."

I didn't believe him. He reminded me of an agitated snake, waiting for the right moment to strike.

His scarlet eyes narrowed, scrutinizing. "You're the one who let me out of the Pyxis."

My memory flashed to the golden box in my father's study. The blue orb that had floated out when I'd opened it. . . Surely that couldn't have been him. That would make him a demon of sorts. Demons didn't exist. They belonged in fairy tales with monsters. But the orb's bluish glow was the same shade as the intruder's scales.

"I thought it was Edmund who had accidentally released me," the demon went on. "You have inherited your father's features."

My eyes darted over to the cordless phone, still too far away for me to reach. The demon followed my line of sight and let out an amused laugh.

"Don't even think about it, boy."

I made a break for the phone, scrambling on hands and knees. Before I made it too far, something wrapped around my ankle and yanked me back. I screamed as white hot pain jolted up my leg. The demon dangled me upside down with his tail. He shook me like a dog shaking a toy before dropping me to the floor. The air rushed out of my lungs with a whoosh. My ankle was throbbing and blood was soaking into my pajama pants.

"There's no point in putting up much of a fight, little Nephilim."

Nephilim? The name was unfamiliar to me. I was unsure if he was insulting me or not.

The demon detected the confusion in my eyes. He crouched down and eyed me inquisitively. "Could it be that your father never taught you about your bloodline?"

My silence was enough of an answer for him.

He threw back his head and laughed. "He's raised you to be a pathetic little mundane. By trying to protect you, he's made you the weakest target imaginable. It seems as though Edmund's held on to his stupidity through the years."

_But he still captured you._

The demon growled. I jumped, realizing I had unintentionally spoken out loud. His tail lashed out and snared my ankle again. I cried out as he dragged me toward him. My palms scraped against the floor, trying to find traction. I flailed and thrashed, desperate to break free. As he continued to reel me in, my leg kicked out and my foot caught the demon's jaw. He hissed and his tail automatically released me. I got to my feet to run for the front door, but my ankle collapsed beneath me and I fell back to the floor.

A shadow loomed over me. I flipped onto my back. The demon's tail hung in the air, stinger poised to strike. I instinctively rolled out of the way and the stringer plunged into the floor where I had been. The demon snarled, infuriated. He tried to stab me a second time but again I rolled out of the way. The third time, he anticipated my evasion and struck. Pain erupted in my thigh. When he pulled the stinger out of my flesh, the hot pain ebbed into a cold, numbing sensation that began to spread up and down my leg. My stomach roiled and my head began to spin.

"That's right," the demon hissed. "Don't fight it. Just let the venom do its job."

I tried dragging myself across the floor. My leg would not obey. It lagged limply as I scooted backward. My other leg began to tingle and my arms wobbled, struggling to hold my body weight.

The demon watched with a twisted smile, entertained. He stood over me and waved the stinger of his tail in front of my face threateningly. "I'm impressed, little Nephilim. You're delaying your death exceptionally well for someone your size. I'm curious to see what one more sting will do to you."

My eyes were drawn from the demon's stinger to a blue-silver glow that had appeared over his shoulder. He noticed the shifting of my gaze and whirled around. An oval of silver and blue light floated in the air. I watched, mesmerized, as a figured began to manifest. He was tall and broad-shouldered. From head to foot he was clad in what looked like black leather armor. In his hand was a blade similar to the one my father had been holding. The man's dark eyes fell to me. I recognized his face, though I did not know his name. I knew him to be a friend of my father's.

"William, move!" he commanded me.

I tried to crawl backward but my body was resisting me. Every limb felt heavy. My eyelids drooped, but I forbade myself from falling asleep.

"Nephilim filth!" the demon spat, tail lashing back and forth.

"Marbas," the man growled.

I watched as the man leapt forward bravely, raising his sword. He and the demon became locked in a battle. The sphere of light still remained, and I watched through half-lidded eyes as another form began to appear. It was a woman this time, dressed in the same armor as the man. She went to the man's aide without looking at me. The third figure to come through was younger than the other two, but years older than me. He noticed me first and paused, watching his friends with conflicted eyes.

"Gideon!" the man called, still swinging his sword at Marbas. "Get William out of here!"

The teenager hurried to my side without comment. His gray-green eyes slid up and down my body, lingering on my thigh and ankle. He slid his arms under me and picked me up. The jostling sent waves of pain through my leg, but all I could manage was a soft moan. Gideon carried me over to the blue-silver light and stepped into it.

Wind whipped at my hair. My stomach flipped and it was all I could do to not puke all over Gideon's chest. We suddenly set foot in a strange room I had never seen before. It looked like my father's study, only much larger. Unfamiliar people surrounded us. Some of them continued to step through the light single-file, others rushed to Gideon's side to help. He carefully set me on the floor. The wood was unforgiving under my body, but I was ready to fall asleep regardless.

"Will." Gideon shook my shoulder. "You have to stay awake, okay?"

I nodded but my eyes were already closing. Voices drifted around me. Someone tugged at my pant leg and I heard the sound of scissors shearing through material. When I realized what he or she was doing, I tried to fight back. Not even my finger lifted from the floor. My entire body was limp, dead weight.

Gideon launched into a heated argument with a woman. He used words that I did not understand like 'stele' and '_iratze_'. The woman tried to change his mind, but to no avail.

Something cold pressed against my thigh. Fresh pain like a stinging burn exploded where it was dragged across my skin. It grew in intensity until finally, mercifully, I blacked out.

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><p>"Son of a bitch!"<p>

Chunks of the wall rained down on our heads. I lowered my arms and looked up. Scorch marks lined the hole where the spell had hit the wall. Gideon chanced a look around the corner. He let out a curse and flew back against me just as a ball of red sparks flew past. It hit the mahogany dining room table and ignited it in flames.

"Where's Marbas?" Gabriel asked Gideon.

The older of the brothers shook his head. His silver-green eyes were bright and wild against his dirty, scratched face. "I'm not sure. We have to get Will up to the library. Catarina is opening a portal for him there."

Gabriel wiped the sweat from his brow, green eyes intense. "We won't be going anywhere with that warlock out there."

Gideon pulled two throwing knives from his weapons belt. "Leave him to me."

I looked at the two of them. Gideon and Gabriel Lightwood had taken care of me since the day I had been rescued from my house. They had volunteered willingly to be my protectors. I'd grown fond of them over the next five years; they were like brothers to me. The last thing I wanted was to see them sacrificing themselves for me, but they'd take an oath to guard the last direct descendant of Jonathan Shadowhunter.

"Gabriel." Gideon's eyes focused on his brother. "Make sure Will gets to the library. No matter what happens. Understand?" Gideon's eyes turned to me and he winked. "See you later, Shortie."

I smiled at the nickname the siblings had given me. Both of them were taller than me, but the name was an endearment, not a taunt. My smile disappeared when I thought about how much Gideon's four words sounded like a goodbye.

Sucking in a breath, Gideon launched himself around the corner and released one of his throwing knives. We heard a grunt from the warlock. Gabriel and I looked around the bend, crouched low. The handle of the knife protruded from the warlock's shoulder, but he continued firing spells. Gideon dodged them easily, flipping and rolling aside with the skill and grace of an accomplished Shadowhunter.

With the warlock's attention diverted, Gabriel began steering me toward the staircase. We had to cross the wide foyer to get there. As Gabriel and I inched closer, Gideon was also advancing on his enemy. In one fluid motion, he released the other knife and yanked out his dagger. The warlock dodged the knife's path but not without gaining a slash across his cheek. Gideon threw himself forward, dagger aimed at the warlock's chest. The warlock raised his hand.

Time slowed down. Gabriel and I froze, watching the events unfold. I knew in my heart what was going to happen. My throat closed and cut off my scream.

The same moment that Gideon's dagger sunk into the warlock's chest, the warlock cast a dark red curse. The sparks hit Gideon squarely in the ribcage. Both fighters paused, stunned. The warlock fell first, his body and eyes unmoving. Gideon swayed on his feet before collapsing to his knees.

"Gideon!" Gabriel cried.

The upper half of Gideon's body fell forward and crashed against the floor. Like the warlock, he was completely still. Dead.

Surprisingly, Gabriel recovered before I did. He grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the staircase. When I finally tore my eyes from Gideon's body, I saw the tears streaming down Gabriel's cheeks, fragile drops of silver curving over his strong, angular cheekbones. He unsheathed his seraph blade at the top of the staircase and checked left and right before leading me toward the library. We reached it unchallenged, but I felt far from safe.

Gabriel barricaded the door and scanned the room. "The portal should be here."

"We still have time. We can grab Gideon and bring him through the portal. Maybe Catarina can help him."

"Gideon's gone!" Gabriel fired back, emotional. "We can't help him. Besides, Marbas is still out there."

Right on cue, something slammed against the library doors. Gabriel positioned himself in front of me, seraph blade at the ready.

"As soon as that portal opens, you get out of here," Gabriel instructed, his voice firm like his brother's had been. "Don't wait for me."

The doors blew open, clashing against the walls with loud bangs. I flinched at the noise; Gabriel remained steady and sure-footed.

Marbas strode into the room casually, tail whipping behind him. He eyed Gabriel undauntedly and craned his neck to peer at me. It had been five years since I'd seen the demon who had slaughtered my family, who had tried to kill me. Seeing him again unearthed my grief, my hatred, and my fear. I tried not to cringe under his stare but failed.

Marbas smiled, satisfied by my reaction. "There you are, William. I've been looking for you."

The same words he had said to me the first time we'd met. The effect was not lost on me.

"You want Will, Marbas? You'll have to go through me," Gabriel snarled.

Marbas's snout pulled into a sneer. "You look oddly familiar. Ah, you must be the Lightwood runt. Where's your brother?"

Gabriel did not fall for the demon's trick; he calmly remained where he was, guarding me. I felt something stirring behind me. When I looked over my shoulder, I discovered a circle of light expanding. The portal was opening.

Marbas noticed too and surged forward. "You won't be getting away this time, William."

Gabriel waited and then swung his blade in an arc at the demon. Marbas dodged it and tried to sneak around the side. Gabriel anticipated the maneuver and kicked out with his leg. His muscular, booted foot hit Marbas's middle and knocked him back. Marbas roared and struck out at Gabriel's ankle with his tail. Gabriel executed a flip, evading the attack. He swung his seraph blade down. The demon shrieked when the weapon hit his tail, but the appendage was not severed.

"Will, go!" Gabriel shouted.

I stepped back and felt a breeze pulling at my clothes and hair, but I hesitated from entering the portal completely. I couldn't leave Gabriel behind. When the timing was just right, we'd jump through it together.

Marbas swung his tail horizontally and Gabriel ducked out of the way. The demon jumped back and crouched low. The stinger struck outward toward Gabriel's chest. The Shadowhunter jumped to the side to avoid it. Marbas leapt after Gabriel's feet had barely touched the ground. Gabriel sprung to the other side on unbalanced legs. I watched in horror as Gabriel stumbled and Marbas shot out his tail.

In disbelief I staggered backward. The portal pulled at my body, carrying me away, but not before I heard Gabriel's choked gasp as Marbas's barbed tail pierced him right through the heart, the stinger protruding from his back. Gabriel's stunned green eyes found mine seconds before the portal closed and everything disappeared.

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><p>ONE MONTH LATER<p>

I was watching TV in my room where there was a knock at my door. My blonde-haired glorified babysitter poked her head in, a smile on her face. I rolled my eyes when I saw her, but she was unbothered by my behavior. She had grown used to it over our couple of weeks together. I never seemed to irritate her, which irritated _me_.

"Your roommate is here," she said. "Come say hello."

I let out a dramatic sigh and pushed the power button on the remote. Climbing off my bed, I dragged my feet as I followed my sitter down the hall. She was trying to make my current predicament sunny and fun and cute by using a term like roommate. It made me want to puke.

We descended the Institute's massive stairwell to the foyer. Another member of the Clave, a forty-something man in a black suit, stood next to a guy about my age. The two of them cut off their hushed conversation as we approached.

I sized up my 'roommate'. He was slightly shorter than me. The fit of his clothes hinted at lean muscle covering every inch of him. He was in no way brawny, like Gideon had been, but I had no doubt that he was agile. His hair was dark and tousled, thinly streaked in random spots with silver. Odd for someone his age. The eyes that watched me were gray, but not cold.

"Will," the blonde said, "I'd like you to meet James Carstairs. James, this is William Herondale."

The newcomer offered his hand. "Jem."

"Jim," I said, deliberately trying to antagonize him.

Jem let his unshaken hand fall back to his side, his smile unwavering. The strap of a backpack hung from his shoulder and a duffle bag sat at his feet. Next to the bag was a violin case. I frowned. What was he going to do? Serenade me into liking him?

"We'll let you two get acquainted," the blonde chirped. "Will, why don't you show Jem to his room?"

I headed for the stairs, not bothering to offer to help with his luggage. "Right this way, _James_."

He followed me up the stairs in silence. I appreciated that he did not attempt to make small talk. He looked around curiously as I led him down the long hall of closed doors. I stopped in front of the room next to mine and tapped the door with my foot.

"This one's yours."

"Thanks," Jem said, still grinning.

I narrowed my eyes. "Look, don't make yourself too comfortable. The second I turn eighteen, I'm taking off."

Jem's smile remained but his eyes were skeptical. "You're stuck with me until Marbas is found and killed, Will."

"Or until _you're_ killed," I said bluntly.

I turned and walked back into my room, leaving Jem in the hallway with his baffled expression. The door slammed as I kicked it shut. Most likely he'd been tipped off about my attitude, my _acting out_. He looked too confident, his demeanour was too calm. He probably thought this gig as my babysitter was going to be a piece of cake.

Well, I was going to make it hell for him.


	2. Locked Inside

_**Hello! Sorry about the wait for this chapter. I've got something else I'm working on, and it's doing quite a bit better than this story so far. I'll try to update this one as much as I can. Anyway, this chapter is a bit short. Expect the beginning chapters to have a slow pace, but I promise that there is some action approaching. Thank you for reading, following, favorite-ing, and reviewing! More reviews would be splendid! :)**_

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><p>Someone knocked on the door but I didn't bother to mute the TV. I glanced over and saw Jem poke his head into my room. He crept inside without an invitation. I raised an eyebrow at him before turning back to the TV. He strode up to the side of the bed, hands shoved casually in his pockets. I stayed where I was, reclined against a mountain of pillows with my arm tucked behind my head.<p>

"What are you watching?" he asked, peering at the TV.

I lifted the remote and turned up the volume pointedly. Jem, however, didn't take the hint.

"Can I speak with you?" he asked, voice raised to keep it afloat over the television.

"I'm busy," I said shortly.

Jem sauntered over to the TV and pressed the power button. The screen flashed to darkness. I immediately pushed the power button on the remote, flaring the screen back to life. Much to my agitation, Jem manually turned the TV off again and stood in front of the screen, arms folded across his chest.

"Isn't there someone else you can bother?" I asked dryly.

"I'm not here to bother you." Jem moved his arms to clasp his hands behind his back. His posture was tall and straight, uncommon for people our age. "I feel as though there is an unwarranted tension between us, Will. I was not sent here to tell you what you can and can't do; I'm here to protect you. This situation doesn't have to be all bad."

"You want to be my friend, James?"

"I'd like that, yes."

"I don't need any friends," I hissed, sitting up. "Nor do I want any."

Jem's silver eyes narrowed. "I know what you're doing."

"Do enlighten me," I said, my voice dripping with sarcastic enthusiasm.

"You're afraid, Will."

I slid from the bed and stalked toward the other Shadowhunter, my movements measured and smooth, predatory. Jem held his ground, unflinching.

"You loved Gideon and Gabriel," he continued. "You saw them murdered, just like your family before them. You're afraid to feel grief's pain again, so you're deliberately trying to push me away. Isolating yourself from everyone around you will not make death any easier to bear; it'll only make you feel more alone."

"I am not afraid," I countered with a threatening calmness. "I'm being smart. Marbas will always find a way to use the people I care about against me. Devastation makes me weak, it makes us all weak. By isolating myself, the chances of me or anyone around me getting hurt are minimal. I'm barricading myself so you can do your damn job and kill that bloody demon without wearing yourself thin trying to protect me and my friends. No friends equals less work, so you're welcome."

"Friends make loyal allies."

"Friends also make great bait or spies of the enemy. It takes just one to give Marbas the foothold he needs to lure me out into the open so he can finish me off."

Despite the dark mood of our conversation, Jem grinned. "You're paranoid."

Insulted and rapidly losing control of my temper, I snarled, "Get out of my room."

"I want to help you, Will."

Spinning on my heel, I hurried over to the side of my bed and ripped a dagger out from under the pillows. The deadly weight was a comfort, perfectly fitted to the curve of my palm. Jem drew himself up taller and shifted from foot to foot but his face remained composed.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I spat. "Now get out."

"Anger stems from the roots of pain. I understand the hurt that makes holding that dagger feel so good."

I launched myself across the room. Jem raised his hands at the last moment to fend me off. He grappled me, pushing me backward with the force of his body. I let the dagger fall from my right hand and, wrenching my left wrist free, caught it in the air and made a slash for Jem's belly. He instantly released my right hand and jumped back out of the dagger's path. His hand slipped behind him briefly and reappeared, his own dagger nestled in his clenched fingers.

Low to the ground, I rushed forward and caught Jem around the waist. He let out a grunt as I slammed him to the floor but wasted no time in rolling free and lurching to his feet. My arm curled back and unfurled like the crack of a whip. The dagger flew out of my hand and sailed, end over end, toward Jem. He dropped to the floor out of its trajectory. Like a feral, wild cat I pounced. My fist caught the Shadowhunter's jaw. His hips bucked off the floor but I pressed all my weight onto him, pinning him down. His hand pushed at my chest as I grabbed a fistful of his hair and poised my other fist to strike his face.

For a split second I thought I saw something flicker in Jem's eyes. The rings of silver surrounding his irises flashed to a pale green, though it could have been a trick of the light. There was movement in the corner of my eye and I sucked in a breath through my teeth as pain ignited in my bicep. I released Jem's hair and looked down to see a slash in arm. Trails of dark blood snaked down to my wrist.

Jem thrashed and knocked me off balance. Wriggling out from under me, he pushed me to the floor and pinned me on my back. I flinched as his dagger slammed down into the floorboard beside my head. Jem stared down at me, panting hard, his fingers still gripping the weapon.

There it was again: the miniscule change in Jem's features. I saw a quick moment of confusion before the burst of clarity. Jem released the dagger and rolled off me.

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly. "Are you all right? Let me see—"

I sat up and twisted so my back was to him. Warmth spread through my fingers as I placed my hand over the wound in my arm. The cut was relatively deep but the pain had not yet become unbearable.

"Get out," I murmured.

Jem was momentarily silent before I heard him get to his feet and shuffle over to the door. I felt his gaze on me but I did not turn until the door closed. My breathing was ragged and shaky as I pulled my hand away to inspect the damage to my arm. Gushes of blood spilled too quickly for me to get a clear view, though I thought I saw hints of tissue and muscle. Reaching into my back pocket, I withdrew my stele and placed it against my skin. I welcomed the familiar burn as I drew an _iratze_, letting out a sigh as the area numbed and began to stitch itself back together.

As my wound healed, I looked over to find Jem's dagger still sticking up out of the floor. Slowly, almost cautiously, I reached over and yanked it out. Holding it between my fingers, I studied the intricate markings on the blade and handle. My blood coated part of the gleaming blade. What looked like vines had been engraved into the blade, and the handle appeared as though it had been made out of scales. I thought of Marbas's skin and cringed.

Never before had I felt so inclined to attack one of my protectors, and never had any of them dared to lay a finger on me. I'd had my rough patches with Gabriel and Gideon, times where we'd annoyed each other and pushed each other to our limits. And of course they'd trained me to the best of their abilities, which meant there had been no shortage of sparring, wrestling, defensive and offensive maneuvers. But neither Gabriel nor Gideon had ever cut open my skin on purpose. Not even when I'd lashed out at them, overcome with emotion. Not even when I'd begged them to hit me back.

I'd had a couple protectors in the month between the Lightwood brothers and Jem. All of them were just temps, barely sticking around long enough for me to memorize their names. The Clave, it seemed, was running low on Shadowhunters to spare. They'd always assured me that I was their top priority, but I was lucky if the Clave managed to send two protectors to guard me at once. I'd wondered if the number of Shadowhunters had really diminished or if the Clave had just run out of volunteers who were willing to deal with a surly, damaged, teenager. Those that had stepped forward had barely spoken to me, let alone raised a dagger to me.

I flipped the dagger and watched as my blood inched from one edge to the other. It was clear that James Carstairs was not like my other guardians. There was something different about him, and I'd caught a glimpse of it in the flicker of his eyes, in the change of his expression. I wanted— needed —to know more about him. James Carstairs was obviously more dangerous than he led on, which should have been alarming, but I was only intrigued.

* * *

><p>My back was propped up against my door as I listened for any sounds in the hallway. It had been completely quiet for the past half an hour. Bored, I tossed Jem's dagger into the air and snatched it again before it could hit the ground.<p>

At last, I heard the clacking off heels echoing down the hall. They stopped just past my door and there were three knocks against Jem's door. I turned my head, straining to hear what was going on. The blonde woman asked Jem to join her downstairs. Jem, polite as ever, agreed, and I heard two sets of footsteps amble down the hall toward the stairs. When I was sure they were gone, I got up and crept out of my room. My bare feet made no sounds against the floorboards. I reached for the doorknob and turned it quietly, pushing the door open a crack.

"What are you doing?"

My hand froze on the door handle. I looked over my shoulder to see Jem standing behind me, his arms folded across his chest. I hadn't heard him come back up the stairs. His narrowed silver eyes were inquisitive, but I did not miss when they flitted to the faded scar on my bicep.

Calmly, I let go of the doorknob and raised my other hand, which held Jem's dagger. "Thought I'd return this to you."

"Your stealth suggests you're trying not to be seen, as opposed to trying to find me."

The lie rolled off my tongue, "You might have been sleeping. Wouldn't want to wake you."

"How considerate of you." Jem held out his hand, palm up.

"Then again," I dropped the dagger into his palm, "you might be a little too riled up to sleep. Maybe you were contemplating the oath you took to protect me. Maybe you don't really have it in you."

Jem sheathed the weapon behind him. "I am sorry for what I did to you, Will, but it was self-defense. I had to protect myself so I can protect you. I can't do my job with a busted face."

"The gouge in my floorboard suggests you took it a little farther than self-defense."

Smiling and completely at ease, Jem stepped forward and pulled his door closed. He withdrew a key from his pocket and locked the door. He tucked the key away and headed for the staircase.

"Something in there you don't want me to see?" I called out to him.

Without turning around he answered, "I don't want you looting through my stuff. You seem like the kind of guy who would steal my money and my Maxim magazines."

I laughed under my breath. I tried the door just for the hell of it, but it was securely locked. As I trudged back to my room, I wondered what secrets Jem had locked inside his room. Furthermore, I wondered what secrets James Carstairs had locked inside himself.


	3. Friend or Foe

_**Hello, readers! Wow. I didn't intend to leave such a large gap between posting chapters. Sorry for the wait. My other story is now finished, so I can focus on finishing this one. Unfortunately, there aren't going to be many chapters left. Things are going to move along very quickly. Now, I took a bit of a break from writing so please forgive me for the quality of this chapter. It's not my greatest work, but I didn't want to leave this unfinished. I hope you all enjoy it! Happy reading!**_

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><p>I shovelled another spoonful of cereal into my mouth, chewing leisurely as I scanned the newspaper spread out in front of me. I leaned forward, intrigued by a bolded headline that boasted of murder, but my curiosity was interrupted by Jem strolling into the kitchen. He was half naked, a thin sheen of sweat covering his chest. My eyebrow lifted as he opened the fridge and removed the carton of milk. He popped it open, lifted it to his lips, and took two long swigs.<p>

I swallowed my cereal and straightened. "Dude!"

Jem lowered the carton and glanced over, his eyebrows lifting as if he was surprised to see me. "What?" he asked innocently.

"Use a glass next time, would you?" I turned back to the newspaper and muttered under my breath, "Unhygienic bastard."

"Sorry," he said with a quiet laugh. "It's a habit."

"It's disgusting. And rude. You don't live here."

Jem ignored my snipe and leaned against the fridge. "Anything interesting in there?"

I glared at him for a long moment. "Who are you trying to impress, standing there with your gleaming sweat and rippling abs?"

Jem grinned. "Really? You think they're rippling?"

I pushed my cereal away, no longer hungry. "Is there something you need?" My tone was clear: _Piss off._

"Any plans for today, Will? I thought maybe we could do some training. You know, spar, blow off some steam."

I crossed my arms, purposely flexing my muscles. Just as I'd anticipated, Jem's eyes briefly flitted to the scar on my bicep. "I think I'll pass."

His smile was defeated. "Maybe another time."

"Oh for sure," I answered with sarcastic enthusiasm.

Jem remained in the kitchen as I stomped up the stairs. We were the only people in the Institute, which made the noise even more deafening. Just the thought of being stuck inside with him all day was cringe-worthy. Barricaded inside my room, I hastily changed into fresh clothes and fixed my hair. When I emerged, I glanced around for Jem. Stealthily moving down the stairs, I made my way for the front door.

"Where are you going?"

I cursed inwardly, my hand frozen on the knob. Turning, I found Jem situated in a chair off to the right. An open book sat in his lap. His expression was neither surprised nor pissed that I had tried to sneak out. In fact, he only looked curious.

"Thought I'd go for a walk."

"Sounds great." Jem stood and set his book carefully on the chair. "I'll come with you."

"That's really not necessary."

"Of course not."

My blood boiled at Jem's smile and easy-going tone. Sighing loudly, I threw open the door and started down the front steps. Jem jogged to catch up and then matched his pace to my own. I ignored him as I strode down the sidewalk on the familiar route. Mercifully, he kept silent as we crossed several streets in different directions. He followed me into a small building as I made my way to the far end of the shop.

Jem's eyes darted around before settling on me. "You like to read?"

I picked up a book from the discount table and flipped it over. "Nope."

"Then why are we in a book store?"

I looked at him through the tops of my eyes. "Are you really that blind?" At his blank expression, I sighed. "Look around. What do you see?"

Jem glanced left and right. "Books?"

"Considering you're supposed to be my protector, your lack of observation is alarming." I reached out and pushed his shoulder, turning him. "What do you see?"

"Mundanes?"

"Chicks, Jim. Chicks." My eyes lingered on the two girls sitting at a table on the cafe side of the store. They laughed, tossing their hair over their shoulders as they sipped caffeinated drinks from paper cups.

"It's Jem. Not Jim," Jem corrected.

I ignored him and made my way to the front counter. The cashier accepted my money with forced friendliness, and I carried my newly purchased book toward the girls' table. I slowed my pace as I approached, plastering on a charming smile.

"Is it any good?"

Both girls looked up at the sound of my voice. The brunette on the far side of the table blushed and took a long sip of her drink, but the blonde sitting in front of me steadily met my eyes. She toyed with the bookmark sticking out of the book on the table and offered a flirty smile.

"It's all right," she said, her voice as light as bells. She flicked her chin out at the book in my hand. "That for your girlfriend?"

I softened my features to look sheepish. "It's for me actually. I'm a sucker for the classics."

The blonde started to speak again but her eyes flicked to something over my shoulder. Her expression shifted from flirty to disturbed. Confused, I turned and nearly jumped to find Jem standing far too close. His gaze was fixated on the blonde, his glare so intense it alarmed even me. The girls looked at each other, clearly distressed. Panicking, I grabbed Jem's wrist and dragged him out of the store before anyone got freaked enough to call the cops.

I waited until we were back at the Institute before rounding on him. "What the hell was that?"

"What?"

"If looks could kill, that girl would have been on the floor in two seconds flat."

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Jem refuted, sounding dubious.

"I beg to differ. Aside from that, you totally cock-blocked me!"

"I did not."

"Yes you did. I could have gotten her number."

"And what? Scored? Is that really a priority right now?"

"Oh please. You should be thrilled. The only reason I'm being kept alive is to make more Shadowhunters of my bloodline."

"Not with mundanes," Jem said, then looked instantly guilty.

Anger burst in my chest like a firework. I started up the staircase but stopped halfway. Jem held my gaze from his spot on the landing.

"Do you know what it's like?" I asked coldly. "To be kept alive solely because of your DNA? Do you know what it feels like knowing that if you were _anyone _else, the Clave would let you die? Do you know what it feels like to know you're only being kept alive to serve one purpose? Not to rise up and defeat some great evil. No. My purpose is solely to continue my bloodline. The Clave doesn't give a damn about me. The Clave only gives a damn about what flows inside me."

I turned and continued storming up the stairs, ignoring Jem as he called after me. Before I entered my room, I tossed the copy of _Wuthering Heights_ over my shoulder. It stared up at me from the floor as I slammed the door shut.

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><p>Jem sauntered into my room without knocking. Smirking, he announced, "We're going to a party."<p>

I stared at him, incredulous. It was as if my little outburst several hours earlier hadn't even happened. Slouching further into my pillows, I muttered, "I'm not really in the mood for a party."

"I doubt Will Herondale would rather stay cooped up in his room than go to a party."

"Will Herondale would rather have a pouty, angsty party alone than go anywhere with James Carstairs."

"Will—"

"Leave me alone." I moved to unmute the TV.

"Will please," Jem said quietly. "My presence has been requested. It's essential that I go, but I can't leave you here alone. Come with me. Please."

Desperation was buried deep with his words, but not so deep that I couldn't hear it. I found myself reluctantly nodding my head. The relief exposed in Jem's eyes was perplexing. . . and intriguing. This Shadowhunter had interrupted my one-on-one with a mundane, which begged to question why he now thought me being surrounded by strangers was a good idea. This was an opportunity to unravel some of James Carstairs' secrets.

Jem waited patiently as I made myself presentable. He steered me outside to a waiting cab, where we sat in silence as the driver maneuvered his way to the centre of the city. An upscale apartment building waited for us as we got out of the car. Jem paid the driver then led me inside toward a gleaming elevator. He pushed the button for the penthouse, paying no attention to my look of astonishment. The doors slid open on the top floor, revealing a golden hallway. At the end of the hall was a pair of polished red doors, and in front of them stood a broad man in a black suit.

Jem strode forward confidently. As we approached, I noticed the man had small spikes that covered his cheekbones, his temples, and disappeared into his hair. I straightened under his scrutiny.

"Turn around and get out," the bouncer growled. "Invitation only."

"I assure you our host is expecting us," Jem said smoothly.

"Expecting _you_?" The bouncer scoffed. "Nephilim?"

"Ask him yourself. Jem Carstairs." Jem looked at me quickly, as if he'd forgotten I was there. "Plus one."

With a huff, the guard pressed a finger to his ear. "Mr. Bane, I've got a Jem Carstairs out here. Says you invited him." In the following moment of silence, the guard switched from looking annoyed, to baffled, and back to annoyed. Without a word of apology, he stepped aside and pulled one of the doors open.

A gust of music, chatter, and sweet fragrances almost blew me over. I followed Jem into the room, overwhelmed by the tables of food and crowds of people. I instantly identified faeries and warlocks, most of whom had noticed our arrival with hateful or wide-eyed stares.

Jem began pushing through the crowd, glancing over his shoulder frequently to check my progress. I wished I'd brought a weapon with me; I felt oddly exposed in the crowd.

The throngs of guests began to thin, and Jem let out a noise of excitement as he spotted a group of four. "Magnus Bane," he called.

Two dark-haired men turned to us, the taller of the two smiling. Excusing themselves, they left the couple they'd been chatting with and approached us. I fought the urge to take a step back upon noticing the taller man's yellow cat eyes. How did Jem know a warlock?

"Jem, glad you could make it." The warlock shook my protector's hand. His odd eyes fell on me next.

"Will, I'd like you to meet Magnus Bane. Magnus, this is William Herondale."

Magnus extended his hand, which I shook firmly but hesitantly. "Ah, so this is the last surviving descendant of Jonathan Shadowhunter. It's a pleasure."

"Likewise," I said curtly.

Magnus took the hand of the guy standing next to him. "William, this is my fiancé Alexander Lightwood."

I swallowed back my outrage. Lightwood was a Shadowhunter name. How could a warlock and a Shadowhunter possibly marry?

Alexander's smile was strained. Neither of us moved to shake hands. His blue eyes scanned me from head to toe, calculating. I took a moment to study the two of them as a pair: Where Magnus was impeccably styled and dressed, Alexander was ungroomed and dressed in jeans and a boring blue sweater. Complete opposites.

I turned to Jem. "How do you know a warlock?"

Jem smiled fondly. "He knew my parents."

"I've met many generations of Carstairs," Magnus added proudly.

"So you're really old," I pointed out.

Magnus's lip twitched. "I'm not exactly withered and rickety."

"Do you use hair dye? To hide the grays?"

The warlock looked to Jem. "How imperative is it for your race to survive?"

"Magnus," Alexander chided, bumping his fiancé's shoulder.

"Maybe one of the plagues then?" Magnus stared me down. "I think boils would suit you."

Jem cleared his throat. "Magnus, perhaps you and I could speak in private?"

"Of course." He slipped free of Alexander's hand. "Alec love, William, feel free to" —he waggled his fingers— "mingle."

Alec and I watched Magnus and Jem retreat. Music pounded through the room, but the silence between us was uncomfortable. I tapped my foot, eager to leave. Jem had completely disappeared from my line of vision, leaving me surprisingly unnerved.

"So," I said awkwardly. "Engaged, huh?"

Alec tucked his hands into his pockets. "Yup."

I coughed, stalling for conversation. "So Lightwood is your. . . maiden name? You changing it to Bane?"

Alec cleared his throat. "Actually I was thinking of hyphenating it."

More nervous shifting of limbs.

"Any relations to Gabriel and Gideon Lightwood?" I asked.

He looked at me as if I were insane. "No."

"So—"

"When Magnus said mingle," Alec cut in, "I don't think he meant it had to be with each other."

"Thank you," I said hastily as I made my escape.

Guests cleared a path for me as I made a beeline for the refreshments table. I swallowed a gulp of air and scanned the room, but there was no sign of Jem or Magnus. Frustrated, I turned and glanced at the crystalline glasses covering the table. Each of them was filled with varying colors of liquids. My hand reached for a turquoise one.

"I wouldn't pick that one if I were you."

I jumped, my hand automatically flying to where a weapon usually hung at my hip. Of course, there was nothing there.

"My apologies. I did not mean to startle you."

I gaped at the woman standing beside me. Her chocolate-colored hair cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves, and her gray eyes gleamed like moonlight. She was clad in a black corset top and dark blue skinny jeans, distressed at the thighs and knees. Her stilettos brought her to eye level with me. Without a doubt, I was staring at the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.

"Are you going to introduce yourself or are you just going to stand there and gawk?" she teased.

I shook my head, clearing the fog in my brain. "I'm Will."

She smiled and shook my hand. "Tessa."

"Nice to meet you," I said, trying not to focus on how her corset lifted the swell of her breasts.

Tessa reached for one of the orange glasses on the table. "So how did you get invited to this party, Will?"

I shrugged. "Mutual friends, I guess. And you?"

She grinned wickedly. "I don't need an invitation to get into a party."

My eyes travelled every inch of her bare skin for any identifying marks. She did not appear to be one of the Fair Folk, nor she did bear any features of a warlock. Her unmarked skin ruled out Nephilim blood, but surely she couldn't be a mundane. Did that mean she was a demon? Werewolf, maybe? She definitely wasn't pale enough to be a vampire.

"Were you hitting on Alec Lightwood?"

I blanched.

Tessa clarified, "I saw you talking with him. You looked nervous."

"No," I answered, too quickly. "I wasn't hitting on him. I was trying to make small talk."

"Ah." She took a sip of her drink. "Alec isn't one for small talk."

"Evidently," I agreed. "Do you know him well?"

"Not particularly. I know his fiancé."

"Magnus?"

"He and I used to be an item." Tessa laughed at my baffled expression. "Before he decided to play for the other team."

"Didn't that piss you off?"

She lifted one shoulder in a lazy shrug. "At first. But I realized I'd rather him leave me for a man than another woman."

"Is that why you came to the party? To show him what he's missing out on?"

Her smile was guilty. "Actually, I'm not even supposed to be here. He told me he never wanted to see me again. He'd probably think I'm stalking him if he saw me here."

I lifted an eyebrow. "Are you stalking him?"

She took another drink of the orange liquid. "Come on. He may be my ex, but even I have to admit that the man knows how to throw a killer party."

I nodded, absorbing all the intricate decorations and other guests enjoying themselves.

Tessa set down her empty glass. "I should go. Before he sees me and all Edom breaks loose."

Masking my disappointment, I held out my hand. "It was lovely to meet you, Tessa."

Ignoring my hand, Tessa leaned forward and pressed her lips to my cheek. My face burned as I felt her hand slide something into my pocket. "Give me a call sometime, Will," she said into my ear.

I watched her slip into the crowd, grinning like an idiot when she winked at me over her shoulder. My fingers dipped into my pocket and retrieved a napkin. I unfolded it and found Tessa's name and phone number scrawled in pink ink, with a single heart under the letters and numbers.

A cluster of faeries standing nearby headed for the table to food. In the space they created, I spotted Jem and Magnus across the room. They were in deep conversation, completely oblivious that I was now watching them. Magnus reached into his pocket and withdrew a small brown pouch, and he dropped it into Jem's outstretched palm. The Shadowhunter peered inside the bag and pocketed it with a nod. A look of concern crossed the warlock's face and he rested his hand on Jem's shoulder.

A large group of guests suddenly walked in front of me, obstructing my view. Before I could reposition myself, a particularly tipsy guest knocked over several of the glasses beside me and they shattered against the floor, spewing glass and a rainbow of liquid over the waxed surface. Moving away from the distraction, I searched for Jem. It took several minutes of shoving people aside, but I finally found him standing in a triangle with Magnus and Alec. They were laughing, as if the hushed conversation between warlock and Shadowhunter had never happened.

"There you are!" Jem exclaimed as I joined them. "I was just about to come find you."

_It would have served you right if you found me dead, _I thought.

"Magnus, Alec, thank you for your hospitality."

"You take care, Jem." Magnus turned to me. "Don't let that sharp tongue of yours get you killed, Wilbur Hermaphrodite."

My cheeks burned. "It's William Herondale."

"That's what I said."

"Let's go, Will," Jem murmured, before I could make a retort.

"Jem, wait!" Magnus called before we got too far. He strode over and pulled an item from his pocket. "Marbas is a dangerous enemy, and I know you don't have a lot of help with this important task."

He handed the item to Jem, who held it in his upturned palm. It appeared to be a black stone, jagged and flecked with red and gold. It was attached to a string of brown leather.

"If you ever find yourself in need of aide, crush this. I'll help you, no matter what."

"Thank you," Jem said. He tied the leather around his neck and tucked the stone under his shirt.

Magnus bowed his head and began retreating. "Good evening, gentlemen."

I followed Jem wordlessly across the floor, through the main entrance, and back to the elevator. Once inside the small space and away from the music, I asked, "So what did you and Magnus get up to?"

Jem replied instantaneously, "I wanted to ask him a few things about the wards on the Institute."

I nodded, noting how he made no mention of the pouch Magnus had given him. "That stone was pretty generous of him."

A tic appeared in Jem's jaw. "Let's hope we never have to use it."

Aside from a hooded figure standing on the curb, the street was dark and deserted. Jem cursed as we stepped onto the sidewalk. He looked left and right.

"I called for a cab just before we left," he said. "It should be here."

"Probably just got held up."

Jem pulled out his phone to check the time and scowled. I followed his gaze down the road, but none of the distant headlights turned onto our street. When I looked in the opposite direction, my eyes fell on the figure next to me. The stranger shifted and there was a barely-detectable flash of silver in his or her hand.

Jem moved before I could even blink. He shoved me aside just as the figure lunged at me. The stranger let out a masculine cry as Jem grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. There was a soft thud and the man burst into dust, his weapon falling to the concrete with a clang. Jem stood behind the pile of ashes, his face stoic. Sheathing his own weapon, he knelt down and picked up the demon's dagger. He studied it before adding it to his concealed weapons belt.

I opened my mouth to speak when I saw another figure approaching from over Jem's shoulder. Jem's eyes widened and I turned to see someone else advancing on us.

Jem waved his hand at me. "Come on. This way."

He took off across the street toward an alley on the other side. I followed, hot on his heels, as he raced toward the crossroads in the alley. Jem made a sharp left turn, and I nearly crashed into him as he came to a sudden halt. Two demons blocked our path, two more covered the exit on the right, and the two from the street would soon block our last escape. We were outnumbered, two against six, and surrounded.

My eye caught a door on the building to the right. I grabbed Jem's wrist and hauled him over to it.

"Will, no!"

But I was already rushing through the unlocked door. I heard it slam behind me as I raced down the short hallway. One door waited at the top of three stairs, but it was locked and refused to budge. Worry was evident on Jem's face as he looked at our only option: Down a set of stone stairs into a swell of darkness. Throwing back his shoulders, he indicated for me to follow and began the descent. We picked up the pace as the demons banged against the door behind us.

At the bottom of the stairs was another door. Jem pushed it open cautiously, but no one challenged us from inside. Jem moved forward, his hand hovering by his hip. The room was completely bare, aside from a barred window.

Behind us, the first door broke open with a slam. Swearing, Jem closed the door to our room and withdrew his steele. With a flourish, he drew a locking rune just as something solid crashed against the door. The structure shook but held strong.

On the other side of the door, a voice hissed, "Call Marbas."

My blood went cold. Jem's silver eyes were wide, but he seemed remarkably calm as he hurried over to the window and tugged on the bars.

"This was a trap," I mused. "They meant for us to come in here."

Jem remained focused on the window, the gears in his mind turning frantically.

"Get the stone out. Magnus can help us," I said in a rush.

"Maybe not," Jem whispered.

I moved to my protector's side. "Don't be stupid, Jem. We need help. How many weapons do you have? Maybe we can hold them off until Magnus gets here."

Jem unsheathed the two daggers and held them up pointedly.

"You left the Institute with one measly dagger?"

"I didn't expect to get ambushed at Magnus Bane's party."

"We didn't get ambushed _at_ the party," I snapped. "We got ambushed _leaving_ the party."

"Shut up," he said tersely. "I have a plan."

"You better be getting ready to crush that stone, Carstairs."

Jem handed both of the daggers to me. I gaped at them, caught off guard. Impatient, Jem shoved them into my hands.

"Listen carefully," he said quietly. "I'm going to pry open those bars and then I'm going to boost you out. This next part is very important, Will: If I start acting differently, I need you to kill me."

"Are you insane?" I hissed.

Jem reached around and squeezed the back of my neck, and the pain sharpened my focus.

"I'm serious, Will. If I'm not myself, you stick one of those daggers straight through my heart. Do. Not. Hesitate."

Without waiting for confirmation, Jem turned back to the window. He rolled his neck and shoulders before falling eerily still. I was about to call his name when he twitched, a sudden clench of his jaw. He clenched his hands and the muscles in his arms went taut. Unused to this new side of Jem, I recoiled. But the Shadowhunter paid no attention to me. He reached up, grabbed the middle two bars of the window and began pulling them apart. I watched, astonished and horrified, as the thick metal began to bend.

It did not take Jem long to make an opening wide enough for us to fit through. He kept his face downcast as he made a foothold out of his hands, a silent gesture for me to make a break for it. Hesitantly, I put my foot in his palms and reached for the window. I used none of my own strength to pull myself out; Jem all but threw me onto the rough ground outside.

After checking to make sure the coast was clear, I reached inside for Jem's hand.

He pushed it away and growled, "Move."

I watched, too flabbergasted to be impressed, as Jem grabbed the warped bars and pulled himself out the window with minimal effort.

Grasping the daggers firmly, I eyed Jem as one would watch a dangerous animal. His eyes were clamped shut, and the hard line of his jaw from clenching his teeth suggested he was in pain.

"Jem?" I called uncertainly.

At first he said nothing, and I wondered if he'd even heard me. But his eyes opened and he searched my face, almost as though he did not recognize me.

"Will," he breathed finally.

"You. . ." I trailed off, disturbed by the fact that one of his irises was now pale green.

"We need to get back to the Institute," Jem said, starting off down the street.

I followed but at a distance. Jem obviously had secrets, but they were far more complex than I'd anticipated. Was the Clave aware? Was James Carstairs really someone to be trusted?

We finally reached the Institute, sweaty and out of breath but unscathed. Jem stopped at the door and waited for me to go inside first before closing up behind him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice to speak.

"I'm going to bed."

My eyes remained trained on Jem's back as he hurried up the stairs. What concerned me was Jem hadn't asked for his weapon back, but what was even more disconcerting was Jem's eyes were both silver again.

My fingers tightened around the daggers. "What are you hiding, James Carstairs?"


	4. Addiction

_**Hey, er'rybody! These delays between chapters are awful. Shame on me. I'll try to do better to get this story updated on a regular basis. Anyway, I've got a nice long chapter for you all. Hope it's to your satisfaction. Also, you'll notice that there are two POVs in this chapter; they are both clearly marked. On another note, I've changed the purpose and effects of the yin fen to better suit this story. Now, before I leave you to it, I'd like to mention some good news. Thanks to my awesome readers, a story of mine has been nominated for a Multifandom Award. The title is 'Sacrifice,' and it falls under the category of All-Time Favorite Mortal Instruments Fanfic. If you read the story and enjoyed it, I'd be forever grateful if you wandered over to fanaticfanficsawards . blogspot . com and cast a vote. :) There will be two rounds of voting, and how many I get this round will determine if my story makes it to the second round, which will take place on June 15th. So if you have a spare minute, please vote for 'Sacrifice' or any of the other fabulous stories in the running. Thanks in advance! :) Happy reading!  
><strong>_

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><p><em><strong>Will<strong>_

Jem did not make an appearance until later the next morning. His shoulders were tense when he strode into the kitchen, and he did not utter a single word as he opened the fridge and rifled through the contents. I chewed silently as I watched him, my eyes narrowed. He withdrew an apple and turned, his silver eyes falling on me. Jem's mouth opened as if he were about to speak, but he quickly snapped it shut and bustled out of the room. I quirked an eyebrow and took another bite of cereal. I hadn't known James Carstairs very long, but his behavior seemed very peculiar. There was no doubt in my mind that this had something to do with last night.

Finishing up my breakfast, I made quick work of washing my dishes and headed upstairs to my room. Jem's door was closed and the knob was locked when I gave it a turn, but as I reached my own door, I heard the unmistakeable sound of metal thunking against wood. Jem was practicing with throwing knives in the training room. I briefly considered joining him, knowing my skills were slowly rusting over, but I tossed the idea aside; the last thing I wanted to do was prompt awkward conversation.

I collapsed onto my bed with a long exhale and stared up at the ceiling. It was quiet for a moment before the rhythmic thumping of Jem's knives started up again. Even though I found the background noise to be a comfort, I rolled my eyes. Despite the strange happenings that Jem had introduced, he was obviously beginning to make himself at home. I hated that he was feeling so comfortable in the Institute when I felt so caged. Bored and now in a foul mood, I sat up and looked around my room for something to take my mind off my angst. On the floor I spotted the pair of jeans I'd worn to the party the night prior. The memory of Tessa flashed before my eyes and I suddenly found myself digging through the pockets in search of her number. My pulse jumped when my fingers brushed the soft surface of the folded napkin. Staring at the neat pink cursive, I crawled over my bed and reached into the drawer of the bedside table. Surprisingly, a bit of battery life still lingered in the device. Because of my life of seclusion, I did not have any friends to text, but Gideon had given it to me for emergency calls and to load with apps to ward off my boredom. I'd put the phone in the drawer after Gideon's death, wishing I could store away my memories of the Lightwood brothers and forget about them. The device was cold in my palm, like a ghost or a still heart. I quickly choked back my emotions and dialed Tessa's number. My breath shook between each ring.

Finally, a strong feminine voice answered on the other side of the line. "Speak."

"Um," I said, caught off guard by her greeting.

"Who is this?"

"It's Will. Will Herondale."

"Will Heron— Oh yes." Her voice deepened to a delighted but husky note. "I remember you. The hot guy from the party."

I grinned. The woman knew how to feed my ego. "And I haven't forgotten about the hot girl from the party."

Her breathy laugh, so much like a breeze of air, raised bumps along my arms. "What can I do for you, Will Herondale?"

"I was wondering if you wanted to get together today," I said, nervously sliding my hand from the back of my neck up into my hair.

"I would love to. Meet at your place?"

"Um. . ." I trailed off, wondering how to give directions to a location Tessa possibly wouldn't even be able to see.

She laughed again. "I have the Sight, Will. I'm not a completely useless mundane. Come now, give me the address."

Exhaling a sigh of relief, I told her what she needed to know and smiled when she told me she'd see me soon. As soon as I hung up, I darted around my room in a panic, attempting to clean up and change into a suitable outfit at the same time. With the floor cleared of clutter, I threw open the window to air out the room. I settled for wearing a black polo and jeans, then set to work on making the bed. When the room was finally to adequate standards, I opened the door to meet Tessa out front and nearly ran head-on into Jem. His startled eyes looked me up and down. There was a bit of color in his cheeks from exertion, and bits of his hair were pasted to his neck and forehead with sweat. I squared my shoulders under his gaze.

"Going somewhere?" he asked politely.

"I've invited someone over, actually," I said, my tone clipped.

His eyes widened slightly. "Who?"

"I hardly think that's any of your business, James."

"Jem," Jem corrected. "And it is very much my business. How do I know this person you've invited over isn't a threat to you?"

I shoved past him and started for the stairs. "She's not a threat."

Much to my displeasure, Jem followed me. "_She_? I didn't think the girl from the bookstore gave you her number."

"I didn't get her number, I got someone else's. From the party last night."

The footsteps stopped behind me, but I continued down the staircase. Jem's eyes were burning into my back; I could feel them. Setting foot on the landing, I turned and looked up at my guardian. The hard line of his jaw and nervousness in his eyes made me smirk.

"What are you bringing into the Institute, Will?"

"Not what. Who. And her name is Tessa. She's a mundane, gifted with the Sight. Not a threat."

Jem started forward again. "Deemed by you."

I opened my mouth to make a retort but was interrupted by the Institute's summoning bell. As I turned to open the door, Jem pushed me aside and rushed past. I made a noise of outrage, but Jem ignored me and placed himself at the door. It was only then that I noticed the dagger in his hand, one from the set in the training room. Before I could shove him out of the way, he hid the dagger behind his back and opened the door.

A steady voice drifted inside. "Hello, handsome."

Infuriated, I jostled Jem aside and took his place in the doorway. Tessa's gray eyes found mine and she gave a smile as radiant as the sun. Her brown curls were put up in a messy bun, pinned in place by two metallic red chopsticks. She wore jeans and a hot pink top that tied around her neck and left her shoulders bare. My eyes travelled over her skin, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. Her giggle snapped me out of my reverie and I invited her inside. Her high-heeled shoes clacked against the hard floor as she entered, her gaze wandering in all directions. She finally turned to face me again, but my triumph was short-lived when she looked over at Jem. Jealousy ignited in my chest and I shot him a nasty glare. Though Jem was returning Tessa's glance, his expression was stoic. I saw no excitement or awe in his eyes. I realized with bewilderment that he was not staring _at_ her, he was staring her _down_. Neither of the two flinched, but Tessa's pink lips did curve into a small —somewhat mocking— smile.

"Who's your friend, Will?"

I cleared my throat, ridding myself of some of the hostility boiling inside me. "Tessa, this is James Carstairs. He lives here as well."

"James," she purred, testing out his name. "You're a different sort of beauty, aren't you? I have not seen an angel quite like you before."

A tic appeared in Jem's jaw. "I've seen plenty of women like you before."

Tessa's perfectly-sculpted eyebrows lifted, though she seemed more amused than surprised. "Have you now?"

"The sugar and spice facade isn't fooling anyone. You're all tar and cosmetics."

"_Jem_," I hissed, stepping between the two.

Tessa laughed. "It's quite all right, Will. I could care less about silver when I've got gold." Her gray eyes pointedly fell on me.

Grinning victoriously, I indicated for Tessa to follow me upstairs. She allowed me to place my hand on the small of her back and guide her. I relished in the fact that she gave Jem no more of her attention. When we got to the top of the staircase, I leaned in toward her. "Sorry about him. He's kind of a prick."

Tessa touched my arm, sending prickles of heat straight to my chest. "Don't apologize for him. I've met many men who behave like him. It's the rare ones I like to focus on."

Heat crept into my cheeks. To hide it, I turned and escorted her down the hall to my room. The door was still open from when I'd left it, so she meandered in without hesitation. I watched her carefully, wondering what she was thinking as she gazed upon my possessions and habits, such as the way I left the second drawer of my dresser slightly open and how the corner of my quilt was folded back.

She twirled around, one of her curls shaking loose. It fell to the side of her face, caressing her cheek. I itched to coil it around my finger and tuck it behind her ear.

"Impressive quarters," she observed. "How long did it take to clean up?"

"Are you questioning my tidiness, Miss Gray?" I teased.

Tessa advanced on me until I could feel her breath when she whispered, "I think you like it dirty, Mr. Herondale."

I bit back a groan. In our close proximity, I could smell her perfume and her skin, like roses and fresh air after rain. My heart stalled when her slender fingers reached up and wove through my hair.

"Do you want to get out of here?" I asked, struggling to keep my voice steady under her touch. "We can go to dinner or to a movie."

"Actually, William," She slowly started backing up toward the bed, grabbing the front of my shirt and taking me with her, "I'd rather stay right here." Still gripping me, she slowly rotated until our positions were reversed. My knees bumped into the edge of the bed and I felt my heart jump. Relaxing her hand, Tessa spread her fingers flat against my chest and gently pushed me down into a sitting position. She lifted one knee onto the mattress and then the other, straddling me. Fixing my eyes on hers, I crawled backward to the middle of the bed. There Tessa dropped on all fours above me, forcing me onto my back. She slowly lowered her face until her lips brushed against mine. I sucked in a breath before her mouth sealed over mine completely. She kissed me sweetly, lifting her hand to gently trail her fingers over my cheek. My tongue prodded at her lips, coaxing them to part and allow me to taste her. She complied, humming deeply in her throat. Feeling particularly brazen, I skimmed her arms with my hands, slid them up her neck, and cupped her face. I kept them there for a moment, continuing to kiss her, then I moved them farther up, tangling my fingers into her hair until I found what I was looking for. I pulled the chopsticks free from her hair and watched her hair unwind and spill over her shoulders. The strands reached down to tickle my face. I broke free from her kiss to catch my breath.

"You're so beautiful," I whispered.

She lowered her slight body onto mine, and through our clothing I could feel the softness of her breasts press against my chest. Tessa moved her lips closer to my ear and whispered, "Will."

I groaned. The sound of my name on her lips was so seductive it made my entire body ache. In the last lingering bit of rationality in my mind, I was aware of the fact that I barely knew this woman. We'd only met the night before, only known each other for maybe an hour total, but the way her body fit against mine, the way she said my name, made me want her, made me need her.

Tessa pressed her fingers against the exposed skin of my stomach. The iciness of them made me jump. She giggled an apology and helped me get free of my shirt. Using one hand to cup her head and angle her lips to mine, I let the other slide from her shoulder down to the curve of her hip. I slipped my fingers under the material to feel her skin underneath, exploring the smooth warmth of her body. In turn, her hands trailed from my abs to my pectorals, then across my shoulders and down my biceps. She squeezed each of my muscles, massaging them. Her hands slid back up to my shoulders and, all at once, she dug her nails into my shoulder blades and bit down on my lip. My entire body responded with a jerk, and I pulled away from her mouth, gasping.

Without a word, Tessa whipped her hair to one side and moved her fingers to the button of my jeans. I craned my neck to kiss her again—

And was interrupted by loud coughing. Tessa rolled her eyes and sat up, glancing over her shoulder. I followed her lead and looked toward the still open door. Jem leaned in the doorway, arms folded and one ankle crossed over the other. His expression was anything but pleased.

"Do you mind?" I growled.

Jem straightened. "Actually I do. I need to have a conversation with you, Will. Tessa, I'll escort you out."

My voice rose. "Are you kidding me?"

Tessa turned back to me and put her hand on my cheek. "It's all right, Will. I should go. It would appear you two housemates need to have a discussion on certain. . . arrangements." She winked at me. "We'll save some of the fun for our next visit, yes?"

"Definitely," I breathed, nearly losing my mind as he kissed me again.

Tessa climbed off the bed and straightened her clothes. I followed her, heading for the door but Jem blocked my path.

"I'll escort Tessa out," he said.

"Fuck off, Jem."

"I'm afraid I must insist, Will. I'd like to have a private word with Miss Gray."

I could barely mask my outrage, but once again Tessa placed a hand on my arm, calming me. "It's fine. I can take care of myself. Call me."

I nodded and watched her turn away. Jem locked gazes with me for a brief moment, and I angled all my hatred in his direction. I thought I saw him flinch slightly, but he walked away before I could savor it. Just to emphasize my point, I backed into my room and slammed the door.

_**Jem**_

** The descent down the staircase was eerily silent, with only Tessa's shoes clacking between us. She made not one noise of complaint as I all but shoved her through the front door. Once outside, Tessa turned to meet my eyes. I held her gaze steadily. There was a dominant air about her, and I refused to give her the tiniest bit of satisfaction by shying away from her stare. My instincts told me not to trust this girl, which made her presence unnerving.**

** She smiled and batted her dark eyelashes at me. "Have your way with me, Mr. Carstairs."**

** "Don't call me that," I said evenly. **

** "What shall I call you then?"**

** "I don't want you to call me anything, because I don't want to see you here ever again." **

** Tessa's smile widened. "I'm afraid that decision does not fall on you."**

** "Will is my friend, and I will make whatever decisions are in his best interest."**

** "I don't think Will feels as strongly about you as you feel about him."**

** I kept my expression neutral. "That doesn't matter. You should stay away from this Institute. Go find someone else's heart to break, Tessa. Mundanes don't belong here." **

** "What's wrong, James? Are you jealous of the time Will and I spent together?"**

** "No," I answered, too quickly. **

** Tessa noticed and paused. Her eyes widened and she laughed. The unpleasant sound stirred a presence deep inside me, and it was all I could do to keep my composure.**

** "You're in love with him," she stated matter-of-factly. **

** "I care for Will—"**

** "It is much deeper than that," Tessa interrupted. "Did it tear you apart? Seeing me touch Will the way you want to touch him? Does it hurt, trying to keep your hands off him?" **

** "Get out of my sight," I said icily. "And stay away from Will."**

** Tessa started down the front steps, calling over her shoulder, "Oh, I have a feeling I'll be seeing you again very soon, Mr. Carstairs."**

** Narrowing my eyes, I watched her cross the Institute's grounds and start off down the street. Only when she disappeared into a crowd of people did I slink back into the Institute and close the doors behind me. With a sigh, I ran a hand over my face and started up the stairs.**

** Was it really that obvious? If Tessa could read me so easily, did that mean Will had already guessed my feelings toward him? Was that why he was so determined to push me away? **

** Will's door was still shut when I reached it, but the second my knuckles tapped on the wooden surface it flew open. Will stood there, his hair in disarray and his chest still bare. His eyes, bluer than the sea, were burning. **

** "What the hell is your problem?" he demanded. **

** "I don't trust her, Will," I said honestly. **

** "You don't even know her!"**

** "To be fair, neither do you."**

** Will threw up his hands. "By the Angel, you insolent little—"**

** "Please don't contact her again."**

** Will's shoulders squared, a movement I recognized to be a defensive habit. My eyes caught the scar of a rune on his neck, and I realized that, unlike mine, most of his skin was unmarked. I wished he'd put his shirt back on; seeing him in this state was rather distracting. **

** "I will contact her if I damn well please." He grabbed the door. "And your chaperoning will **_**not**_** be required." With that, he slammed it shut.**

** I sighed and headed back to my room. Will tried so hard every day to make me resent him, and I wished he'd succeeded. Things would have been much easier if I'd cared less.**

_**Will**_

It was not yet late, though the sun had already begun to set. The sky was streaked with pinks, oranges, and yellows. I'd spent the remainder of the evening in my room, refusing to go downstairs when Jem made dinner. He'd tried entering my room, but I'd locked the knob. I still had his dagger from the night of the party, and I feared that if I so much as looked at him I'd stab him through the eye.

I was lounging on my bed when the idea came to me. To get back at Jem, I needed to take away something that he cared about. He'd brought a violin with him to the Institute, and though I had not yet heard him play it, I was positive the item was dear to him. Why else would he bring it? I'd sneak into his room, grab the violin, and hide it somewhere in the Institute. I would not harm or destroy it. Jem was annoying and rude, but he wasn't cruel. I'd stow it away until he begged me to give it back to him, until we saw eye to eye. All I needed was a distraction to get into his room while it was unlocked.

Contemplating this, I snuck out of my room and down the hall. Jem's door was open a crack, and light filtered through the slit. If he left his room in a hurry, chances were he wouldn't take the time to lock his door. I needed something urgent, such as an act of violence.

My legs carried me down the flight of stairs as an idea sprouted in my head. The second I threw open the front door, I heard Jem call my name.

I glanced at him over my shoulder. "I just need some fresh air. Give me three minutes." I made of point of showing I was barefoot so he wouldn't think I was running off and try to follow me.

Outside, I hurried down the front steps and glanced around. I scouted a rock about the size of a fist nearby and picked it up. As if drawn by a magnetic force, my gaze wandered to the Institute's windows. A rock that size could easily shatter one. Grinning to myself, I moved to the sidewalk in search of a willing accomplice. I ruled out mundanes since none of them could see the structure behind me, but, as luck would have it, there was a demon skulking between the throngs of people. He had grayish-brown horned skin and eyes that were black from corner to corner. His legs were bent and clawed, almost like a raptor's. A spiked tail hung nervously between them, like a frightened dog. Oddly enough, he wore a black leather vest. Automatically I guessed him to be in the drug business. He would do perfectly.

"Hey," I called out to him.

His head snapped in my direction and his eyes widened in alarm. I waved him over, praying he did not turn and flee; he certainly looked like a flight risk. But to my surprise, he crept over, twiddling his clawed fingers together and keeping his eyes on his shuffling feet.

"I didn't do nothin'. I swear. I didn't do nothin' wrong," he said, trembling.

"I wouldn't exactly call your profession right, but that's not why I called you over." He blinked up at me, curious. I showed him the rock. "Want to wreak a little havoc?"

The demon shook his head fiercely. "No, sir! I don't want to cause no trouble! I ain't got no quarrels with the Nephilim!"

"You need not fear any retribution from the Clave. Do this simple task and I will reward you."

"What's the little Shadowhunter's task?"

"I want you to take this rock and throw it through one of the windows over there." I pointed to the windows on the unoccupied upper levels. That would give me enough time to go into Jem's room and take what I needed.

"Vandalizin' Nephilim territory would get me a nasty punishment, sir. I ain't gonna' do it."

"Look," I hissed, checking to make sure Jem wasn't watching, "either you do this for me without retribution or I tell the Clave I caught you conspiring to mutilate Nephilim territory."

The demon let out a shriek and trembled from head to foot. "I'll do it! Don't tell no one, sir. Don't anger the angels."

"Thank you." I placed the rock in his upturned clawed hand. "Now, wait exactly seven minutes before you throw this. And when you do, you better turn and run like hell or you're going to have a pissed Shadowhunter on your ass. Now, as far as payment—"

"No!" The demon hugged the rock to his scaled chest. "No transaction, no trail. Ain't no need for payment here, sir. Gonna' finish the task and scram."

"Seven minutes," I repeated.

The demon nodded and started off around the corner toward the side of the Institute I had indicated. When he was out of sight, I headed back inside the building, closing and locking the bolt for good measure. Jem was sitting in the middle of the staircase, waiting for me. He rose as I ascended the stairs but I barely spared him a glance; I walked right past him as though he were invisible. Only when I reached the second level did he dare to speak.

"I didn't mean to come across as rude today."

"Well, you did anyway," I said, continuing down the corridor. "In fact, you were the perfect example of an asshole."

As I neared Jem's room, I was careful to keep my head facing forward while I moved my eyes to see if his door was still open. Excitement rushed in my veins when I discovered it had not been shut. Without breaking stride, I continued on to my room.

"You understand why I did it though, right?" Jem asked.

"I dunno'. Maybe you have an issue with women."

"I have an issue with potential endangerment to your person."

I stopped and whirled around. "You think I can't handle myself against a girl half my size?"

"She seemed to be handling you this afternoon."

"If you really want to protect me against threats, Jem, maybe you should take a look in the mirror."

My guardian staggered back as if I had punched him. Just as he was about to speak, there was a loud crash from the floor above, followed by an audible thud. Jem and I both jolted, startled. In a fraction of a heartbeat, Jem threw out his arm and pushed me against the wall.

"Stay here," he instructed firmly. He reached into his pocket and withdrew what appeared to be a leather cylinder. His thumb pressed against a button and two curved gleaming blades shot out of either end, forming a perfect circle. Jem held the _chakram _steadily and rushed down the hall to climb the staircase to the next level. I stared after him for a long moment before remembering my original plan. I rushed into Jem's room and looked around frantically for his violin. The entire room was neat and tidy, not a single sock on the floor or pillow out of place. The violin was easy enough to find, tucked away inside the case that had been slid under the bed. As I straightened and turned to leave, something familiar caught my eye on the nightstand. It was the small brown pouch Magnus had given to Jem in secret at the party last night, the same pouch Jem hadn't told me about. In a split-second decision, I put the violin back and grabbed the pouch, shoving it deep into my pocket. My feet carried me soundlessly out of the room, where I returned the door to its original state and waited for Jem to return. About ten minutes passed before I heard him coming down the staircase. He darted past me to head down to the ground floor.

"Jem?" I called after him.

"Stay where you are! I'm going to check the perimeter."

I hoped the demon had gotten away undetected. Pathetic as he was, it would be a pity for Jem to slay him. As I waited, I mulled over the genius of my plan. The Institute was protected by wards that kept demons and Downworlders out, but it did not protect against rocks. Then there was the mysterious brown pouch. I hoped it was more precious than Jem's violin. I pondered what Jem would look like, tearing his room apart in search of the item. What did his voice sound like when he begged? Would his eyes change color?

Down below, I heard the door slam and the bolt slide home. Jem hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Though his skin was dry, his chest rose and fell at an accelerated rate. I put on my most convincing mask of concern and approached him.

"What was that?"

Jem pushed the button on the _chakram _again and the blades slid back into the sheath. He tucked the weapon away and crossed his arms. "I'm not sure. Someone threw a rock through a window upstairs. Whoever it was ran off before I could get outside."

"Do you think it was Marbas?"

Jem measured my expression. "I don't think so," he said, but I could hear the doubt in his voice.

"I suppose Marbas wouldn't break a window and then run off. He'd try to get inside to get to me."

"Right," Jem said, his eyes distant and calculating.

"We should probably get that window boarded up," I suggested.

"Yeah." Jem's eyes flicked to his door. "Why don't you get started and I'll meet you up there."

"Sure." I turned away before he could see the shift in my expression. This was the beginning of a beautiful vengeance.

* * *

><p>Jem never did appear to help me with the window, which was more irritating than satisfying. I had to sweep up the broken glass myself, then I had to secure several boards to the window using a combination of runes and nails. After I applied an array of protection runes, I went back downstairs to give Jem a piece of my mind. As I approached his room, I heard muffled thumping and swearing. Slowing my pace, I cautiously glanced inside the room.<p>

The place had been ransacked, everything completely out of order. My jaw fell open at the mess. The blankets had been torn off the bed and lay in heaps on the floor. The mound of pillows was now in disarray, a couple of them even ripped open. Drawers were gaping open, clothes strewn everywhere. Even books had been thrown to the floor with carelessness. I recognized one of the covers: _Wuthering Heights_. Jem must have picked it up and kept it when I'd discarded it.

"Jem?" I called softly.

A head of silver hair popped up from beside the bed. Jem pushed himself to his feet and glanced around. He was as unkempt as I'd ever seen him: his hair sticking up in places and his clothes sticking to his body with sweat. His skin had paled, making him appear sickly.

"I can't find it," he groaned, his teeth clenched as though he were in pain.

"Find what?" I stepped into the room. "What are you looking for?"

"It's—" He broke off and attempted to lift the mattress to search beneath it. "I _need_ it."

I'd anticipated Jem to become frantic once he'd noticed the pouch's absence, but I hadn't expected such an escalation of erratic behavior. Jem was a whole new person, and I'd seen two different sides of him already. Just how many faces did this Shadowhunter have?

"If you tell me what you're looking for, I can help you," I offered.

"You can't help me!" Jem snapped, his voice deeper than usual. He dropped the mattress and slammed his fists onto the soft surface. With a moan of pain, he clenched the mattress in his hands and rocked forward and back on his feet, bent over as if he was going to throw up.

Too disturbed to desire Jem's anguish any longer, I pulled the pouch from my pocket and opened it. The inside was lined with leather, and cradled in the centre was a pile of silver powder. A smoky-sweet scent lifted from the bag's contents, reminding me of burned sugar.

"What the hell?" I murmured.

My voice caught Jem's attention and he lifted his head. When his eyes caught what was in my hand, his body snapped upright. He cocked his head to the side, the betrayal evident in his wide eyes. "You took it?"

I exchanged his accusation with mine: "You're a drug addict?"

Jem held out his hand. "Give me the pouch, Will."

I clenched the bag in my hand and a puff of residue flew out of the opening. "Does the Clave know about this?"

The other Shadowhunter approached me with threatening steps. "No. Now give me the pouch."

"No."

Jem's face twisted into a snarl and, for a moment, I thought I saw a flash of green in his irises. But as quickly as his rage had appeared, it faded into pinched concentration. Jem closed his eyes and drew in several long breaths through his nose. When his eyelids lifted, his irises had returned to silver. "You don't understand," he said, desperation underlying his tone. "The powder is not an addiction; it's medication."

"Typical addict excuse," I snorted. "You _need_ it. You can't live without it. This is a weakness, one the Clave needs to know about."

"It's not for me!" Jem blurted.

"Oh really? Are you holding it for a friend?" I scoffed. "I saw Magnus Bane give this to you, Jem. That's why you went to the party, isn't it? To get your fix from your dealer?"

"It's not like that!"

"Then explain it to me."

Jem hesitated, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "It's not for me. It suppresses. . . _him_."

"'Him?' Who's him, James?"

A ripple when through Jem's body and he jackknifed over, but he managed to stay on his feet. He groaned and lifted his head. One of his eyes had turned green again, pale but distinctive from his silver eye. There was a moment where Jem's lips spread into a grotesque smile, but it quickly contorted into an expression of pain.

"Don't. . . call me that," Jem bit out between clenched teeth. "He thinks. . . you're speaking directly. . . to him."

"That's it. I'm summoning the Clave." I turned to leave.

"No!" Jem's voice had deepened again, freezing me in my tracks. "Give me the drug and I'll explain everything."

"I don't think so. Your detoxing starts now."

As I turned, I managed to catch Jem's movement out of the corner of my eye: he sprang at me, his hands outstretched. His body crashed into mine and sent the two of us sprawling into the hallway. Jem was on top of me, trying to pry the pouch from my hand, but I roughly shook him off and made a break for my room. His hand caught my ankle and brought me crashing back to the floor. I felt him crawl on top of me and flip me over. Struggling to break free, I tucked my fist under my back, making it harder for Jem to grab at my fingers. He roared and punched me in the side of the head. Stunned, I lay still until the anger and adrenaline flooded my veins. With my left hand, I reached into Jem's right pocket and snatched the _chakram_. The blades slid free the moment I yanked it out and tightened my hand around the cylinder. No sooner had the blades been unsheathed that Jem attempted to get the weapon away from me. I swung out with it and caught his bicep. Blood splattered against my face as his flesh tore apart. He cried out and slapped his hand over the wound, but the injury was not enough to slow him down. Grabbing my wrist, he gave a sharp twist until the weapon fell from my hand. He then picked it up and hurled it aside, where it embedded itself in the wall. Jem punched my face again, and when he poised to strike once more, I instinctively brought both hands up to shield my face. He made a grab for the pouch, both eyes wild and the green one now darkened to emerald. Before he could get it, I brought my arm back and thrust it out, my fist hammering against Jem's jaw.

Jem's body teetered backward but when he leaned over me again, I realized with horror that it was no longer Jem I was staring up at. The other being Jem had been referring to, he was now the one staring down at me, and I could see in his eyes that he meant to kill me.

Jem's hands suddenly wrapped around my throat and squeezed. My fingers clawed at his as my airway closed, but the pressure continued to build. I could feel my eyes bulge and the blood rush to my face as his grip continued to tighten. The edges of my vision darkened and spots began to flash before me. For half a second I blacked out and my body slackened. Jem let out a roar and slammed my head against the floor. Everything went white and then black, and suddenly the pressure around my throat disappeared, as did the weight on top of me. I coughed violently and rolled to my side, curling into the fetal position as I choked and gagged. When my vision finally returned, I saw Jem kneeling on the floor. He dumped a generous amount of powder into his palm, cupped both his hands around his mouth, and inhaled. His body spasmed as he breathed in the drug. Disgust coiled in my stomach as I watched him lick the remaining powder from his skin, drawing his tongue over every inch of flesh.

While his attention was diverted, I rolled onto my stomach and began crawling toward my room. If I could get inside and lock the door, I'd have a chance at calling for help. My muscles quaked beneath my weight as I attempted to rise onto all fours.

"Will? Don't—"

In a panic at being noticed, I managed to leap to my feet and make a break for my bedroom. I did not make it far before Jem tackled me from behind. I rolled over to fight him off, punching and tearing at every part of him that I could reach. He did not hit me back; instead he tried to grab my arms and pin them down. Amidst the scuffle, the collar of Jem's shirt gaped open and the necklace Magnus had given him slipped free from underneath. The stone hovered just above my nose. Jem and I noticed at the exact same moment, but I was faster. My hand wrapped around the stone and I gave a yank, tearing the string from Jem's neck. All I needed to do was slam the stone against the floor, crushing it, and Magnus would come to my aide.

"Will, don't!" Jem cried.

Everything slowed down. I watched my hand falling toward the floor, awaiting the shattering of the stone beneath my palm. But suddenly my body was jerked from the floor. Jem lifted me up and my hand swung through empty air. Before I could do anything more, Jem whirled around and threw me, hard, against the wall. My skull cracked against the hard surface and everything went dark.


	5. Suppression

_**Hi, everyone. Finally got another chapter written up. There isn't much left to this story, maybe 3 chapters. Thanks for sticking with it. As much as I love Will and Jem, I am very excited to writing another Malec story. Hopefully that will be soon. Enjoy!**_

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><p><em><strong>Will<strong>_

A slit of light pierced the darkness, like a beam from the sun cutting through the depths of murky water. Colors blurred together until, slowly, the hard edges and soft lines of shapes began to sharpen. A figure slowly drifted into focus: Jem, hovering over me with watchful, concerned eyes. But what instantly drew my attention away from him was the dagger in his hand.

Jem's hand clamped down over my mouth before I could yell. I thrashed, trying to dislodge him, but a sharp pain in both of my wrists made me still. Leaning my head back slightly, I found that my wrists had been secured to the bed frame with rope. My feet remained unbound, but that did little to assuage my growing alarm.

"It's all right, Will," Jem said gently. "I'm not going to hurt you." When my eyes flashed to the dagger pointedly, he sighed. "Just give me ten minutes to explain everything. If you do not like what you hear, you have my full permission to summon the Clave, the Enclave, whomever you wish. Just give me ten minutes. Please."

Jem's hand remained over my mouth, and I remained silent and still as I deliberated the situation. On one hand, Jem had nearly succeeded in killing me, but it had been evident that he had not been himself. As I gazed up at him, I noted that his irises were back to their usual silver color. Though being tied to the bed by my guardian was indeed an unnerving situation, I found that I was currently not afraid of Jem. He held a dagger in his hand, but my instincts told me I was in no immediate danger. If he'd truly wanted me dead, he would have finished me off when he had the chance. Ten minutes of him rambling and making excuses was not going to change anything.

When I finally nodded, Jem removed his hand, but he made no move to unfasten the ropes. "I need to trust that you're going to keep your word, Will," he said. "This will end badly if you make a run for the door the second I cut you loose. So, in tradition of complicated matters such as this, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

My hands tightened into fists with annoyance, making the ropes groan quietly. Pushing my whirlwind of emotions aside, I looked him dead in the eye and promised, "I will not try to run."

Jem hesitated only for a second before lifted the dagger. I flinched but Jem ignored this and reached across me to begin sawing at each of the ropes. He stepped back from the bed as I freed my wrists from the bonds and rubbed at the numb, reddened skin. Jem noticed my eyes watching the dagger cautiously and tossed the weapon aside. It clanked against the floor before coming to a stop and leaving the room in deafening silence. After a moment, Jem approached the bed again and slowly sat down, leaving a courteous amount of space between us. Still, I drew my knees to my chest as I sat up. A dull throb pulsed at my temples as I became vertical, and I suddenly recalled Jem slamming my head against the floor and hurtling me against the wall.

"Are you in pain?" Jem asked. "I drew you an _iratze_ a while ago, but maybe it's worn off."

"Or maybe one wasn't enough, considering all the damage you caused," I murmured bitterly, rubbing my forehead.

Jem grimaced. "I'm truly sorry. It was never my intention to hurt you."

I narrowed my eyes. "Need I remind you that the clock is ticking?"

Jem stared, taken aback, before nodding and wiping his palms on his knees. As his arms moved, I watched the slight flexing and relaxing of his bicep. There was a scar there, long and narrow, nearly invisible against his skin; I remembered slicing open his flesh with the _chakram. _The warmth of satisfaction curled in my chest, until another wave of throbbing attacked my head.

"When I was twelve," Jem began, his voice so quiet I had to crane my neck to hear him, "I lived in the Shanghai Institute with my parents. We lived peacefully as a well-respected Shadowhunter family. My mother and father were skilled and knowledgeable fighters, but no amount of training could have prepared them for what was about to come.

"My mother had slain a nest of demons. The litter belonged to a demon named Yanluo, and we were not aware that he wanted revenge against my mother. He sought the help of the warlock Octavian Rage, and together, with careful planning, they were able to infiltrate the Institute. We were unprepared and unable to call for help, but my parents fought tooth and nail to ward off the intruders. My father was able to fatally wound Yanluo, which stopped Octavian Rage in his tracks. I remember the warlock casting a curse, then something hit me in the chest, and I fell to the ground, writhing in agony. Pain is the only thing I recall before the memory of waking up.

"Octavian Rage had fled and Yanluo's body had strangely vanished the night I had blacked out. My parents were desperate to know what had happened to me, but no amount of searching revealed the warlock's trail. It was only a short time after that I started hearing a voice, Yanluo's voice. It frightened me because I thought he was still lurking in the Institute, but the voice was actually inside my head. He said horrible things, cruel things, and he always taunted me to lose control, but at the time I had no idea what he was talking about. His voice kept me awake at night, made food go sour in my mouth. After three days of no sleep or food, something inside me snapped. Something had made me angry, though I do not remember what. Once again, all I remember is pain and then darkness. When I woke up, I was on the ground and my parents were kneeling over me. Both of them were covered in scratches and bruises and one of the Institute's rooms had been completely destroyed, but they never told me what had transpired.

"For weeks my parents contacted Downworlders in the area; warlocks, the Fair Folk, anyone who was willing to help. All our questions went unanswered for a long, long time."

I shifted on the bed to fold my legs. "Why did you not seek the help of the Silent Brothers?"

Jem's eyes were pained. "My parents were afraid for me. They feared the Silent Brothers would quarantine me and conduct harmful experiments."

"They could have cured you."

"Cures do not exist without experimentation, Will. My parents did not want a life of seclusion for me. They worried if the Clave found out, they would declare me an outcast, strip me of my runes, or worse. What an irony that by trying to protect me, my parents drove me deeper and deeper into isolation.

"Throughout the next year, I suffered several more 'episodes,' as my parents called them. I barely have any memory of them, only brief flickers. The things I did. . . What I destroyed. . . I'm sure my parents were terrified of me, that they no longer considered me to be their son. They never stopped caring for me and their love was unremitting, but I saw that something had changed. The flicker of terror in their eyes when I got frustrated or upset, the faraway look my mother used to get when she thought I wasn't looking."

My stomach tightened. I wondered how my parents would look at me now if they hadn't been murdered. Would their smiles waver? Would the affection in their eyes be distant?

Jem raked a hand through his dark, silver-streaked hair. "It was after I turned fifteen that we caught word of Octavian Rage's whereabouts. He had returned to Shanghai after fleeing the country to head west after the attack on my family. My parents tracked him down and, after a violent battle, brought the warlock back to the Institute. Just as bloodied as the warlock was, my parents interrogated him for hours. Shortly before his death, Rage revealed that he had merged Yanluo's energy with mine. I was sharing a body with a demon, the Angel's blood filthied by the blood of our enemy. From time to time Yanluo was able to possess me entirely and take control over my body, which explained my 'episodes.' From that point on, my parents searched desperately for a cure, but any options they found were potentially fatal. Expelling Yanluo from my body brought the possibility of the demon dragging too much of my life with him, killing me. My parents would not risk it, so instead of searching for a cure, they turned their focus to keeping Yanluo dormant. We tried everything from herbal teas to meditation. It was then that I discovered my love for music, and my father bought me a violin. Playing it seemed to keep the voice in my head at bay, to drown him out. I practised constant calmness, and in time I seemed to improve. Our efforts appeared to be working."

I took a breath as Jem paused. While he'd been telling the story, I'd unconsciously grabbed onto fistfuls of my jeans. As I waited for him to continue, I discreetly relaxed my hands and attempted to smooth out some of the wrinkles.

"It was—" Jem broke off, his voice faltering and his eyes shining. He took a moment before trying again. "It was a rainy night. The storm was so fitting for what was to come. It had been a bad day: I was anxious, struggling to maintain a safe distance from irritability. Yanluo's voice was loud that day, never giving me a moment's peace. I tried to play my violin that night so I could get some sleep, but he wouldn't stop. I don't know what the trigger was exactly, but suddenly I was on the floor, curled in a ball. Every limb felt like it was on fire. I remember my mother and father bursting into my room, and I remember hearing her screams over my own.

"The next thing I knew, I was standing in front of a mirror. My eyes were green, patches of emerald scales marred my skin, short spikes trailed up my arms and down my spine, and a tail lashed behind me. I had regained control over Yanluo, but his body was still merged with mine. Whether he deliberately allowed me to see myself like that I do not know. The reflection in the mirror was hideous and terrifying. It was only when I looked away that I saw them: my parents sprawled on the floor, dead and covered in blood. My mother's eyes were wide and her mouth was open in a silent scream, the loudest scream I will ever hear in my life.

"I don't know how long I stayed on the floor, staring at the blood and lifeless shells of my parents. Yanluo's features had disappeared, but I still felt his heavy presence skulking around inside my head. I became afraid, afraid for myself and for others around me. In my cowardice, I called for the aide of nearby Shadowhunters and then fled. I learned that the Clave had ruled my parents' murder as an act of vengeance by a descendant of Yanluo, and that the Clave was looking to return me to the reinstated safety of the Institute. But I continued my escape to America. I needed to be as far away from my sins as possible. In trying to leave my past behind, I tried my hardest to phase 'James' out and strengthen 'Jem.' Yanluo started referring to himself as James, my alternate personality, as a sick joke. Just as he'd taken my parents away from me, he'd taken the name they'd given me and twisted it into something foul and shameful."

Jem's voice echoed in my mind: _"Don't. . . call me that. He thinks. . . you're speaking directly. . . to him." _I'd called my guardian 'James' to get under his skin; all this time I hadn't realized I'd been feeding the secret malice beneath Jem's exterior. Guilt pooled in my chest.

"Magnus Bane found me a few weeks after I emigrated. I was huddled in an alley, soaked to the bone with rain and half-starved, when he stumbled across me. My father had taught me English when I was young, but as fluent as I was in the language, I refused to ask for help. I did not deserve anyone's mercy or pity; I deserved to die. But Magnus would not have it. He whisked me off to his home, _after_ a long speech about his lack of obligation to take in wayward Shadowhunters, mind you. He nursed me back to health and thwarted my attempts to escape and live back on the streets. Terrified James would hurt him, I did everything in my power to push Magnus away. But he would not let me go. With plenty of rest and food I began to grow stronger, but so did Yanluo. I suffered an episode one night, but Magnus was able to defend himself against me. He began to recognize the signs of my impending attacks and managed to get me secured in chains before I could become too much of a threat."

Jem noticed my horrified expression and offered a timid smile. "It wasn't as cruel as it sounds. I preferred the chains, actually; they made me feel safe. But I did not need them for very long. Magnus had done some research and found something that could possibly help me. He brought home a powder, which was sometimes used to help slow the effects of different poisons. The powder is known as _yin fen_."

Jem's eyes grazed over my face, searching for any hints of recognition. He let out a deflated sigh as he registered my blank expression. "_Yin fen_ is a highly addictive drug. Very few Downworlders produce it, and even fewer use it."

"Did it work?" I asked hesitantly, carefully gauging his reaction.

"Initially, yes. It suppressed Yanluo to a point where I could go days without hearing his voice."

Something was off about Jem's features: his lips were turned down at the corners, his jaw was a hard line, and his eyes were downcast. I realized that there was no hint of victory behind his words; his body exposed his defeat.

"But it didn't work for long," I guessed aloud.

"The thing about _yin fen_ is," Jem went on, "the longer you use it, the more you have to ingest in order to get the same outcome. In other words, what used to suppress Yanluo for days suddenly only stifled him for a few hours."

"Which means you have to take the drug more often. Is it difficult to obtain?"

"No. Magnus supplies it for me, and he said the quantities are plentiful."

"So why not just take more of the drug more often? If stock isn't an issue, what's holding you back?" My tone came out more callous than I'd intended.

Jem's eyes met mine, and the small smile he offered made my blood go cold. "Because the more I take, the faster it kills me."

_**Jem**_

** Will's evident distress brought an ache to my heart, one that had me hoping he would reach out and pull me into his arms. I wanted to be crushed against him so that one pain might erase the other. But of course Will did no such thing. He only unfurled his legs and swung them off the side of the bed. His hands were on his knees as he stared anywhere but at me. **

** "You're dying?" he finally whispered. **

** Having come to terms with it long ago, I nodded and calmly said, "Yes." **

** "But I thought you said the drug was used to treat poisons."**

** "Slow down the effects of poisons, yes, but not stop them all together."**

** Will thought for a moment. "So stop. Just stop taking the drug." **

** "I suppose that would be the faster way to die, albeit riskier." I measured Will's confusion and explained, "I will die if I stop taking the drug. I will die if I continue using it. I wished for death for a long time, but I cannot risk giving Yanluo free reign over me. At least with the drug I can subdue him. . . to an extent." **

** Will shifted and was on his feet, pacing. For a moment I was fearful he was going to leave the room and summon the Clave, but he made no move for the door. He scrubbed his hand over his face and raked his fingers through his hair, wincing slightly as he touched a tender spot on his skull. He turned to face me, then, his arms crossed. I had to tear my eyes away from the alluring flexing of his muscles. **

** "I've seen Yanluo make an appearance too many times since you got here."**

** "No," I said, not defensively. "You've seen me fighting off Yanluo."**

** "The eyes, the aggression—"**

** I waved my hand. "Those, alongside the deepening of my voice, are just the beginning symptoms. I know I am very different when I'm fighting him off, but you will know when you are looking at me and when you are looking at Yanluo." **

** "I hope that is never proven," Will muttered. He began pacing again, chewing on his fingernail. When he looked at me again, he squared his shoulders. "Why would you endanger my life when you know how much of a threat you can be?"**

** I flinched at the coolness behind his tone, but I could not blame him. He deserved the truth. "I spent two years hating myself, and more before that being afraid of what I was capable of. But when Magnus told me the Clave was searching for a guardian for Jonathan Shadowhunter's descendant, I saw an opportunity to prove to myself that I am still capable of doing good in this world. I need to know that I can protect, not just destroy. And I need the defend the part of me that is left that was raised by my parents. I knew the job was a gamble, but if anything can prove my worth, it's this."**

** Will ducked his chin and looked at me through the tops of his eyes. "Is Yanluo listening to this?"**

** "He's always listening."**

** "What does he think about everything you've told me?"**

** I knew what Will was insinuating: **_**Is Yanluo going to grace us with his presence anytime soon?**_ **Shaking my head, I said, "He doesn't mind. He likes hearing people talk about him."**

** "How modest," Will mumbled. **

** "As long as I keep my emotions in check, I will not fail to protect you, Will."**

** "But your emotions haven't been in check! One minute you're as calm as a Buddhist monk and the next you're frightening girls off with a glare."**

** I kept my mouth shut. Will was right; my emotions had been fluctuating lately. Yanluo fed on anger, and jealousy was as good as dessert. But I could not tell Will that seeing him with women was one of the reasons my control had been slipping. It was not fair to isolate him like that. He would come to resent me, and that was something I could not bear. **

** When Will spoke again, his back was to me. "It was Yanluo that saved us the other night, wasn't it? After the party?"**

** My palms tingled at the memory of the cold bars of the window bending beneath my strength. "I siphoned some of Yanluo's energy to free us." **

** "I suppose he could be an advantage to us."**

** "Yanluo is capable of only destruction. He is a demon, and he will stop at nothing to tear apart the Nephilim."**

** "So you're saying I shouldn't trust you."**

** "I—" My voice caught in my throat. "You can trust **_**me**_**." **

** "You're not the issue, Jem." Will turned and his blue eyes were almost sad. "It's James I worry about." **

** A tingle dragged down my spine and in the farthest corner I my mind I heard the faint echo of laughter. Will moved to the door and pulled it open. Before leaving, he stopped and cast a glance over his shoulder.**

** "I'm giving you another chance, Jem. I hope it doesn't cost me my life." **

** "It won't," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.**

** Will gave a single nod and left the room. I heard his bedroom door open and shut, leaving me alone with James's continued laughter.**

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><p><strong> I hadn't slept the night before. Too unsettled to sleep, I'd tossed and turned for most of the night. It was around three in the morning when I finally gave up. Not wanting to disturb Will with wandering or playing my violin, I'd turned on the light and pulled the copy of <strong>_**Wuthering Heights**_** out from under my pillow. With my head propped up on my hand, I read until well after dawn. Exhausted but unable to sleep, I'd opted for making breakfast.**

** Magnus had shown me how to cook what he called a 'classic American mundane breakfast' back when I'd stayed with him. Said breakfast consisted of pancakes and bacon. The meal was easy enough to prepare, but I did manage to burn myself on flying droplets of grease spat out by the bacon. I allowed myself a few choice curse words in Mandarin before taking a breath and continuing with my work. My hope was that this surprise, as small and insignificant as it may be, would alleviate any uneasiness between Will and I. Perhaps it was a stretch, but if I could get him to smile at me, the warmth of his blue eyes would be enough to calm my racing thoughts, to help me feel grounded again. **

** When everything was finished cooking, I arranged the food onto two plates and set them on the table. I tried to take my time up the stairs, but it seemed that my feet were as eager as my heart to get to Will's door. Planting myself in front of the wooden structure, I took a moment to collect myself, bouncing on the balls of my feet and shaking out my hands. My pulse quickened as I lifted my hand and gently knocked on the door. A moment of silence ensued so I knocked again. A groan could be heard from inside the room, and I imagined Will sleepily rolling out of bed, shirtless and his hair wild. **

** The door opened and I bit back a groan. Will was indeed shirtless and unkempt, and his sea-blue eyes were heavy-lidded and cloudy with sleep. He yawned and stretched an arm out to brace himself against the open doorway.**

** "Good morning," I said cheerily, trying not to stare at Will's abs. I was glad to still be in a t-shirt and sweatpants. I was muscular, but nowhere near as defined as Will. His beauty made me feel insignificant. **

** Will blinked. "What time is it?"**

** Afraid he'd be upset that I disturbed him before noon, I ignored his question and answered, "I made breakfast." **

** That caught his attention. "You made breakfast?"**

** "Pancakes and bacon."**

** Will opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another voice: "It smells wonderful."**

** My chest tightened at the sound of the feminine voice. The familiarity of it was like two hands wrapping around my throat, choking off my air. Will turned his body and Tessa appeared in the doorway beside him. She wore an oversized t-shirt —probably Will's— and a pair of lacy underwear. Her hair was tied in a messy knot of curls at the top of her head.**

** "Hello, James," she said, grinning like a smug fox. **

** "It's Jem," Will corrected, nuzzling her ear.**

** I was too stunned to appreciate Will's comment. He kissed Tessa's cheek and she giggled. Turning her face, she captured his mouth with hers and cradled his jaw in her hand. Fingers closed around my heart as I watched them, squeezing until I was sure it would burst. My palm itched, longing to feel the roughness of barely-there stubble on Will's jaw. My cheek burned, desperate for the feel of Will's lips. My breath left me in a rush and I stepped back from the door. **

** Will broke away from Tessa's kiss. "You all right, Jem?" **

** "I'm fine," I choked out, avoiding his gaze.**

** I felt Will's eyes study me for a moment before he invited Tessa to breakfast. She kissed him again, their lips smacking, and told him to go ahead. She would meet him downstairs. The two of us watched his broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped figure descend the stairs and disappear from sight. When I flashed a glare at Tessa, she was leaning against the door frame, her lips curved into an amused smile. **

** "What the hell are you doing here?" I bit out. "I told you I never wanted to see you again." **

** "I value Will's desires over yours, sweetheart." Tessa's gray eyes raked me from head to foot. "He called me last night, clearly distraught. Wouldn't say what was bothering him, only that he didn't want to be alone. He's my friend, so naturally I wanted to be there for him. I offered to let him stay at my place, but he refused, insisted I come here." **

** Will's loyalty for remaining at the Institute instead of sneaking out was flattering, but I was too busy being troubled to care. Will had sought out Tessa's companionship because he was afraid of me or because he preferred her presence over mine. Either way, it pained me to think about it. **

** "He doesn't have a clue, you know. About you being in love with him."**

** I glanced at the stairs, panicked that Will was coming back and would overhear our conversation. From the floor below I heard plates clanking together and the fridge opening. My heart calmed, if only for a minute. Sparks of anger exploded in my stomach and a presence manifested in my head like the coiling wisps of smoke. **

** "I'm not in love with him."**

** "Oh really?" Tessa stepped closer. "Then kiss me right now and prove it."**

** James let out a laugh as soft as the flutter of an eyelash. He liked Tessa's game. I pushed him aside and stared her down. "Absolutely not. Will likes you. I would never do that to him." **

** Tessa continued to advance on me. I bit on the inside of my cheek when my back hit the wall behind me. "How noble of you. Or perhaps it's because you don't want my lips on yours, because mine aren't Will's." Bracing her hands against the wall on either side of my head, Tessa caged me in place. I could have pushed her away, but my hands were shaking in fists at my sides. James wanted me to shove her, to hit her. I couldn't give him the satisfaction. Carefully I began to sidle against the wall, pushing against Tessa's arm, but she slammed her side against the wall, blocking my path. Her hands dropped to my shoulders and slid across my collarbones and down my chest.**

** "Stop it," I growled.**

** Tessa leaned forward, pressing her body against mine. The softness of her curves was foreign to me; it felt wrong. She stretched onto the balls of her feet and craned her neck, reaching for my lips with hers. I pushed my body tighter against the wall and wrenched my face to the side, knocking my cheekbone against the wall. **

** "Shh," Tessa whispered. She cupped my cheek in her hand and turned my face back to her. The coolness of her fingertips eased some of the pain but did little to lessen my anxiety. Before I could get away again, Tessa reached up and kissed me. Her lips were soft and smooth on mine. Her tongue prodded at my lips and I clamped them shut, refusing to let her in. To escape her, I whipped my head to the other side and tilted my chin up so she couldn't reach me. Tessa's lips slid across my mouth to my jawbone, her breath hot against my skin. I shuddered, but not out of desire. She kissed a path across my jaw and up to my ear. Her tongue flicked against the lobe and she gave a gentle bite. **

** "Enough!" I cried, pushing her aside with my arm. **

** The shove was not hard enough to knock her over, but Tessa did lose her balance. When she righted herself, her cheeks were flushed and she bore the same snide smile she'd greeted me with. **

** "For someone who's into men, you sure let me linger for a long time," she taunted. **

** "Don't ever touch me again."**

** "Not a problem. I'll just focus all my touching on Will." **

** "Tessa?" Will's voice drifted upstairs. The two of us broke apart at the sound of feet on the steps. By the time he reached our level, Tessa had positioned herself in his bedroom doorway again and I had regained my composure. Two blue eyes settled on me for a long moment before flicking to Tessa. I felt relief and jealousy at the same time: relief that I was not under any suspicion and jealousy that his beautiful eyes were now focused on the harpy across from me. "You want some breakfast?"**

** Tessa wrapped her arm around Will's waist. "I would love some."**

** The two of them walked by me and headed for the stairs. They'd only gone down a couple steps when Will turned back to me. "You coming?" he asked. **

** I caught Tessa's mocking eyes on me and shook my head. I knew she wouldn't tell Will anything about the kiss. It would be much more fun to torment me and dangle Will in front of me like a toy. "No. You guys go ahead." When they were out of view, I wiped my lips with the back of my wrist. I knew I had to eat. Hunger combined with the loss of sleep from the night before would only make James's presence more prominent. But the lingering taste of Tessa made me want to be sick.**

** Once again, James's sinister laugh bounced in the confines of our shared mind. **


End file.
